


Lavender

by BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Break Up, Endgame Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Eventual Smut, F/F, Masturbation, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 79,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie/pseuds/BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie
Summary: On Halloween night in 1932, Chloe Beale meets a disguised stranger with whom she has an immediate, magnetic connection.  She has a sneaking suspicion, based on the petite frame, delicate hands, and soft lips that it’s a young woman.  According to the rules of 1930s New York high society,  it should definitely confuse and potentially frighten Chloe. But Chloe has never played by the rules.  She soon finds out several of those around her don’t either. In fact, they’re the ones who will make it possible for Chloe and her mystery crush to ultimately be together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did actually do some research on New York culture in the 1930s, but admittedly took some artistic liberties where it made sense. 
> 
> Also, if some of the dialogue seems stilited, overly formal, or just downright cheesy (e.g., "It's the berries!") let's not forget...this little ditty is set in the 1930s, kids.

Arthur J. Beale IV, heir to the Beale shipping fortune, moved his family from Atlanta to New York City in the summer of 1930 so that he could assume control of his father’s -- formerly his grandfather’s and before that, his great-grandfather’s -- business.   

Beale had no sons and felt strongly that the cutthroat world of business was an unfit occupation for his only child, his beautiful 22-year old daughter, Chloe.  

In his mind, her priorities now that she’d finished her education should be finding a suitable husband and then giving the Beales as many gorgeous grandchildren as possible.  

But, ask Chloe directly about her father’s aspirations for her, though, and she’d thumb her nose at them.  And at him. 

Yes, Chloe was one of Atlanta’s social elites.  She was beautiful with red hair that was almost as fiery as her personality and eyes so big and blue, they looked like two pristine tidal pools on the beach.  However, her beauty couldn’t match her intelligence and her vivaciousness. True to the cliché: young women wanted to be her and young men wanted to date her…if not more, but Chloe was aloof to the many gentlemen who asked her out.  She went on dates, of course, because that’s what was expected of her, but she never enjoyed herself. Never enjoyed being treated like she was this dumb, fragile thing. Never liked the feeling of a man’s hands in hers, on her hips or at the small of her back.  And never ever enjoyed kissing them goodnight, which always seemed to be an expectation not a romantic gesture...or even more, explosive desire. 

Chloe’s lack of a serious suitor -- or any suitor for that matter -- at her age, her determined, sometimes downright stubborn personality and her disdain for most conventions dictating how society women should behave provided some serious grist for the Atlanta rumor mill.

While Arthur and wife, Anne, would tell anyone who would listen that they moved to New York for the family business, the real reason was to give all the Beales, but especially Chloe, a clean slate away from prying, judging eyes and sullied family reputations.

Little could anyone have anticipated how the 900-mile move would backfire.  For some. For others, it was the catalyst that caused some spectacular, albeit forbidden, fireworks.

 

XxxX

 

While Chloe was happy to escape the dating monotony in Atlanta, she was disappointed to find it replicated in New York. 

After being in the city only a few months, she had already made the rounds of society luncheons and charity functions, thus getting the attention of a number of well-bred bachelors.  

It helped – not really – that her now dear friends Aubrey Posen and Stacie Conrad were all too eager to show her off within their elite circle and introduce her to what felt like nearly every potentially eligible suitor in the city.  Yet even with Stacie and Aubrey's personal stamp of approval on each bachelor they suggested, Chloe still turned up her nose at every single one. 

“If they’re so wonderful, Aubrey, why don't you date them?” 

“Chloe, you know I'm engaged to Oliver.”

Stacie scoffed at the name drawing both Chloe and Aubrey's gaze.

“Stacie, Oliver has never been anything but gentlemanly to you - “

“That's exactly the problem.  His gentleman-ness.”

Chloe tips her head, confused, like a bird turning towards a new sound, but Aubrey shifts the conversation back to her friend's dating life...or lack thereof.

“Chloe, I don’t know what the men were like in Atlanta, but I can’t imagine they were much different than what you’ll find here.  Educated, polite, handsome and wealthy.” 

“I don’t know, Bree, I just haven’t found anyone who really...gets me.” 

“Gets you?”

“You know, someone I feel a connection with.” 

“Who needs a connection when you could have Daddy Warbucks mixed with Valentino?” 

“I don’t know, I think I’d prefer Garbo and, um, Buster Keaton.”

Aubrey looks at her puzzled. 

“You don’t know who they are?”

“Of course I know who they are, Chloe. I just don’t understand.”

“I think she means that rather than rich and attractive, she’d prefer rebellious, mysterious and funny,” Stacie offered.   

“Exactly!  So, Aubrey, know anyone like that?”

Aubrey and Stacey exchange glances and then stare blankly at Chloe.  

“Well, when you find one,” Chloe says, “Send them my way.  Clearly I won’t have to fight either of you to get their attention.” 

“Chloe, you’re crazy.  You could have anyone you want and – “

“And that’s who I want.” 

Chloe pushes her chair back and excuses herself from the luncheon table.   A waiter rushes to refold the napkin that was across her lap. 

“Chloe is so stubborn.  I don’t know what she expects.  She frustrates me,” said Aubrey, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Must be the red hair.  My mother says all redheads are stubborn.” 

“I guess.  Or do you think she’s – ? “

Aubrey searches Stacie’s face for a clue as to what she means, and quickly catches on. 

“No. No.  Absolutely not.  She’s too pretty.” 

“So are you, Aubrey,” Stacie says, covering Aubrey’s hand with hers. “So am I.” 

Stacie gives Aubrey’s hand a gentle and subtle squeeze as Chloe comes back to the table. She waits as a waiter pulls her chair out for her.  

“Thank you,” she says to him.  

The topic of romantic interests now clearly forboden, the three girls resume their lunch talking about far less inflammatory topics such as the weather, the latest Zorro film, and the social event of the year -- the Posens’ annual Halloween masquerade ball. 

“You and your family are attending, right Chloe?” asks Stacie. 

“Of course, we’re all so excited! We were so upset to miss it last year, but great grandma Kit couldn't go on forever.” 

Aubrey nods. “Have you decided on a costume, yet?”  she asks in between sips of her tea.

“I’m going to be a gypsy fortune teller.  I have a crystal ball and tarot cards and everything.”

“How fun,” said Stacie.  “I think I’m going to dress as Roxie Hart.” 

“Figures,” said Aubrey, rolling her eyes. 

“What about you, Bree?” 

“Ah, you know the Posens’ costumes are always a surprise to be revealed right before the ball kicks off,” reminds Aubrey.

“Not even a hint?” Chloe presses. 

“Absolutely not,” said Aubrey.  “My father would have my head!” 

“Then you could be the Headless Horseman,” says Chloe, causing Stacie to laugh and even Aubrey can’t help to crack a smile.  “We never did anything like this in Atlanta, so I’m thrilled.” 

“You’re in for a treat.  It’s always the berries,” said Stacie.

“Really, Stacie?  The berries?”

Stacie and Chloe both laugh at Aubrey’s rigidity. 

“In all seriousness, Chloe, a friend of the family, Tom Reynolds, will be at the party.  He just moved to the city from Cambridge, so doesn’t know many people. I’ll introduce you.  I think you'll like him.”

Chloe feels deflated though she tries to be appreciative of Aubrey’s effort so as not to hurt her feelings.  

Stacie comes to Chloe's defense. “Bree, you don't always have to interfere. Some people might find that annoying. What if Chloe already has someone?”

“Do you?”

Chloe shakes her head “No.”

“See.  I'm helping.  Chloe is still new and doesn't know many people.”

“I'm certain that Chloe doesn't need your help, Bree.  Look at her. She’d do just fine on her own when the time and the person are right.”

“She’s right, Bree. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm not really ready to be serious with anyone.”

“Well time won't stand still for you or any of us, Chloe.  It wouldn't hurt for you to at least have a drink and a dance with Tom.  What if he’s the one?”

Stacie eyes Aubrey, who shrugs with faux innocence, “What?”

“I hate to say it, Chloe, but the sooner you give in, the sooner we can get Aubrey to pipe down.  Even I'm tired of hearing about this so I can't imagine how you feel.”

Chloe forces a smile as she thinks about the rumors that dogged her entire family, just because she didn't -- wouldn't -- date.  She hears her father's voice urging her to meet some young men and knows that at least faking an interest in this Tom Reynolds is what she should do, what she should want, but she hates herself for giving in so easily. “Sure, Bree,” she says, resigned. “You're right.  A dance or two isn't a lifelong commitment. I’ll meet your Mr. Reynolds.” Bree claps excitedly and Stacie rolls her eyes. “Under one condition.”

“Sure.”

“You don't try to set me up again unless I ask first.”

“Well, knowing you, Chloe, I'll be waiting for a while.  But fine. You have your deal.”

“Now, that Chloe has been married off to the first available bachelor we can find, we have some serious costume shopping to do,” said Stacie, pushing back from the table. “Ladies…”

Stacie allows Aubrey to lead them out of the restaurant, purposely dropping back to whisper to  Chloe, “Sorry about her. She just loves you and wants what's best. We both do.”

“I know. And I appreciate it, but -”

“But you're already convinced he’s not for you.”

Chloe nods shyly.

“Chlo, you know if you ever needed to talk about anything, you can talk to me.”

Chloe hums. “Thanks, Stace, but not about this.”

“Well, just keep it in mind.  You might be surprised.”

Chloe follows behind Stacie towards the curb where Aubrey’s driver is holding the car door open for them, worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth and wondering what Stacie’s heard, what she knows or what she  _ thinks  _ she knows. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe meets Tom...and her mysterious stranger.

On the night of the ball, the Posen mansion on the Upper West Side is bustling with activity.  Partygoers, the city's creme de la creme of society, arrive in chauffered cars, dressed as movie stars, Betty Boop, the Bride of Frankenstein, the Mummy, and even Bonnie and Clyde. 

Chloe, who is wearing a white, flowing off-the-shoulder top and a long colorful skirt with a matching bandanna, enjoys the company of Aubrey, Stacie, and Stacie's brother, Jack, and she dances with a number of young men that evening -- all handsome, well-bred and intelligent.

As Chloe is sitting at a table with Stacie and Jack, recovering from a particularly vigorous swing dance, she feels a hand on her shoulder.  Looking up she sees Aubrey with a dark-haired, well-muscled man with a sly grin. He's dressed as Count Dracula. 

"Chloe Beale, this is Tom Reynolds, the one I was telling you about." 

Chloe smiles at Tom.  He reaches for her hand  and kisses it. 

"Chloe, it's lovely to meet you.  Do you care to dance with the Count?" 

"Of course," Chloe responds politely but otherwise lacks any real emotion.  

She lets him lead her to the dance floor where 200 of the Posens' closest friends are getting tipsy and laughing loudly as they 1-2-cha-cha-cha. 

If there's one thing Chloe loves, it's dancing.  She of course knows all of the latest - the Big Apple and the jitterbug, but like any society woman, she can also do the foxtrot and the waltz and even the samba.  

Needless to say, Chloe's making her own fun meeting new people and dancing.  And, while Tom isn't taking away from her enjoyment of the evening, he's not necessarily adding to it either. When he pulls her closer by the waist during a slow waltz, she unceremoniously and instinctively pushes him back. 

Somehow that doesn’t send the message Chloe hopes it would.  Instead of backing off, Tom only wraps his arms around her tighter and leans in for a kiss.  Chloe breathes a sigh of relief to herself as she manages to duck her head, narrowly missing his lips.

When the song ends, Tom escorts Chloe back to her table only to be met by a group of his friends who want to retreat to the study to smoke cigars.  Thankfully, Tom excuses himself and Chloe exhales in relief, but her respite isn't long before Aubrey is at her side.

"What do you think of Tom, Chloe?" 

"Thank you for the introduction, Aubrey.  I'm glad I had the chance to meet him, but I’m not sure we are a good match.”

"But you've only just met him.  How can you be sure?"

Suddenly Stacie appears next to Aubrey, placing a calming hand on her back.

"Aubrey, I think Chloe knows, right Chloe?" she winks.  "Girls like us have kind of a sixth sense."

Stacie shoots Aubrey a look as if to tell her to mind her own potatoes and she immediately quiets down. Meanwhile,  Chloe rolls the phrase “Girls like us?” around in her head, her concerns about Stacie firing up again. 

Just then, Mrs. Posen excuses Aubrey to meet one of Mr. Posen's new business associates. 

Stacie finds Chloe’s hand under the table and gives it a light squeeze as if to say "Don’t worry.” The gesture puts Chloe at ease, but it doesn’t answer any of her questions about her friend of two years.

It’s just a short time later that Aubrey rejoins Chloe and Stacie, who are on one of the Posens' balconies overlooking Central Park, away from the noise.  They are enjoying the cool midnight air, gossiping about some of the older women at the party. Stacie is filling Chloe in on who's married, who's divorced, who's slept with whom, who's old money and who's new money (travesty!).  When they hear the balcony door squeak open, they quickly quiet down. 

"Chloe, I've been looking everywhere for you."   It's Tom. 

"You found me," she says matter of factly.

"I came to say good-bye.  I've got business in Boston this week and my train leaves early in the morning, but before I go, I'd like to ask you out for dinner and dancing this weekend."

“Thank you Tom.  I’m flattered, but I can’t commit just yet.  I'm afraid I need to check my book."

“I understand.  I'll look forward to hearing from you and hope you'll say yes.  Aubrey, wonderful party as always. Thank you for the invitation.  Good night all."

He winks at Chloe before taking his leave.  Aubrey waits until he’s inside and has closed the doors behind him before clapping excitedly.

“I think he likes you, Chloe!” 

Chloe nods somewhat hesitantly, as Stacie eyes her.  “What do you think, Chloe?" 

"I think,” she says standing and straightening out her skirt, “that I don't really want to think about it right now.  I just want to back to dancing."

“Well, that settles it then. Let's go!” Stacie turns to follow Chloe but stops when she sees Aubrey, frozen in place, arms folded. 

“What’s wrong, Aubrey?” 

“Chloe is just...she’s darling, but she’s...she’s demanding.  And fussy. And frustrating.” 

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Stacie’s wink quickly dissolves Aubrey’s pursed lips into a smile. “You, my sweet, need to mind your own beeswax,” she cautions, tucking a strand of hair behind Aubrey’s ear.  “We have no idea about Chloe or who she likes, so let's maybe stop trying to marry her off, hmm?”

XxxX

Back inside the party,  Chloe returns to her table to find her wrap.  As she puts it around her, she feels a light tap on her bare shoulder and turns. 

Standing before her is a party guest dressed as a bank robber -- black shoes and pants, a black and white striped shirt, and a strip of fabric obscuring the robber's nose and forehead, but highlighting a pair of mesmerizing deep blue eyes and leaving plenty of space to reveal a cocky smirk. 

It's hard to hear over the din of conversation and music, but Chloe can just make out the bank robber's words: "I've been waiting to talk to you all night, but you never seem to be alone.  Would you like to dance?"

Chloe takes the thin, delicate hand that's offered to her and lets herself be led to the dance floor. If she didn't know any better she'd think this stranger was a child, given the petite stature.  But then she feels strong arms wrap around her waist, hands splayed firmly on her back, to lead her in a graceful, ethereal waltz. 

Although her earlier buzz from the champagne has worn off, Chloe still feels euphoric and lets herself get lost in the moment.  The music, the hands on her body, and the soft breath in her hair send a tingle all through her -- the very thing Tom didn't, couldn’t, deliver -- and Chloe knows this is different.  She maybe even knows  _ how _ different, and that excites her.  

When she snaps back to reality, she realizes the stranger is looking at her, grinning.  Chloe catches sight of those deep blue eyes again and feels another charge go through her.  She swallows hard and places her spinning head on the stranger’s shoulder. 

"You're a good dancer," says the stranger against her ear.  The feel of warm, barely there lips stirs up something inside of Chloe.  Something familiar and comfortable. Easy. 

She doesn't know what possesses her, but she turns her head, letting her lips press lightly into the crook of the stranger's neck.  "Thank you," she says. "You're quite good yourself" Although she is still unsure of what's sparked this feeling of warmth that is radiating throughout her, one that seems to concentrate and pulse wherever the stranger's skin is directly against hers -- her cheek, her hands, her back, her arm -- she doesn't let it deter her enjoyment of the evening. In fact, she allows herself to sink further into it.

As the music continues, as the stranger shifts and brushes against her, the feeling only intensifies, overwhelming her.  Consuming all of her. Just when Chloe thinks she might burst, or faint, the song ends and Chloe raises her head and pulls back, only to lock eyes with the stranger in front of her, still holding her hands. "I hope I'll have the pleasure again sometime, Chloe Beale."

"Wait, how do you - we haven't even been properly introduced."

The stranger's eyes search her face as if memorizing every freckle and then she feels a pair of soft lips on her cheek -- a kiss that is chaste but scintillating. 

Before Chloe can say any more, the stranger winks and is gone, disappearing through the crowd.

Aubrey is suddenly at her side, noticing the redhead is touching her cheek as if to confirm for herself that it really happened. 

"Are you all right, Chloe?" 

"Who was that?"

"Who?”

"That stranger.  The one dressed as a bank robber?"

"What?"

"I was just dancing with someone dressed as a bank robber and somehow they knew my name, but I have no idea who it was and -- "  Chloe decides to stop there in part because she can't really name the feelings that flared up inside her while she was dancing, and because she just doesn't want to have to deal with all of the questions Aubrey is likely to have.  

Aubrey shakes her head. "I haven't seen anyone here tonight dressed as a bank robber.  I think the drink has gone to your head, Chloe. Maybe I should help you find your parents to take you home?" 

"No, no," says Chloe.  "They left an hour ago." 

"Then, may I send someone to fetch your coat? Help you to your car?" 

"Thank you, Aubrey.  I’m fine, but think I will take your advice and bid you goodnight." 

"Are you certain you can manage?" 

"I am. I had a wonderful time!  Thank you.” 

"We'll have lunch soon, all right?"

"Yes, and tell Stacie I'm sorry I missed her." 

Aubrey and Chloe exchange hugs before Chloe weaves her way through the remaining party guests, of which there are still many even at this late hour, to the coat room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe has a sneaking suspicion, based on the petite frame, delicate hands, and soft lips that her mysterious stranger is a young woman. By society's rules, it should definitely confuse and potentially frighten Chloe. But Chloe has never played by the rules.

"Good night ma'am," says the attendant as he hands Chloe her coat.  She proceeds down a grand set of stairs to the Posens’ foyer to summon her car.  

She pauses for a moment on the stairs to put her arm through her coat sleeve and feels a slight tug at her side.  Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe catches sight of the black and white striped shirt that she'd danced with earlier. The stranger is helping her on with her coat.

"Thank you," says Chloe.  What follows is sheer habit, though it shouldn’t be  "Such a gentlema - "

Chloe stops herself.  She's not dumb and she's not naive.  She has a sneaking suspicion, based on the petite frame, delicate hands, and soft lips that her mysterious stranger is a young woman.  By society's rules, it should definitely confuse and potentially frighten Chloe. But Chloe has never played by the rules. Instead, she finds it exhilarating and exciting.   She simply can't help but follow where this stranger is leading her. In fact, she doesn't really want to fight it. Her desire is gathering elsewhere tonight. 

"So polite," Chloe recovers.  At that, she notices a moment of something -- perhaps panic -- flicker in the stranger's eyes, brought on by the fact that Chloe might know something about who or what that stranger really is.  But then the moment is past. The stranger merely smiles and opens the front door for Chloe, leading her out. 

"Where do you live?" asks the stranger.

"I don't even know your name.  What makes you think I want you to know where I live?" Chloe teases. 

"Well, if you won't tell me, how am I supposed to walk you there?" 

"You don't have to do that. I have a car, with a driver." 

"As do I, but I'd like to walk with you.  If you'll allow it that is." The stranger again holds out a delicate hand and Chloe can't resist taking it.  She can't get enough of how their palms feel pressed together. 

A departing guest raises her eyebrows at their connected hands -- whether in disbelief or distaste, Chloe can't be sure, but then warm fingers curl around hers and she can’t find it in her to care. 

"Is this OK?" 

Chloe looks down at their joined hands and bites her lip, trying to ignore the sudden thudding in her ears and the butterflies in her stomach. Oh god, the butterflies.  It has been so long Chloe almost forgot how good those felt. 

She nods and smiles. 

The stranger gently tugs her forward to re-focus her attention, "So Miss Beale, care to at least tell me whether we're going uptown or downtown?" 

"Uptown.  74th and Columbus." 

"Wait! I thought you didn't want me to know your address?"  the stranger smiles. 

Chloe gives a relaxed shrug, "Just...just don't rob my house." 

"What makes you think I'd do something like that?"

"Possibly the way you're dressed?" Chloe challenges, gazing up and down the tiny body before her.   

"Well, in that case, can you tell me whether Blind Justice will win in the 4th tomorrow at Belmont? Or where my cat, Mr. Fluffy, ran off to when I was eight?”  

The smirk on the stranger’s face and the mischievous glint in those dramatic eyes, stirs up that feeling inside Chloe again, pulsing concentrated warmth to where their hands are connected, to where the stranger's thumb is lightly stroking her knuckles.

Chloe lets herself bask in it for a block or two until she remembers she's allowing herself to be led by someone whose name she still doesn't know.   "Excuse me..." 

The stranger stops and turns to look at her with a curious expression, but doesn't say anything, so Chloe continues.  "You know my name and my address -- "

"Technically, no.  I only know what block you live on.  Yours could be any number of houses there," the stranger challenges.

"Fine.  But that still doesn't change the fact that I know nothing about you." 

"It's more fun that way, don't you think?"

Chloe can't help but sink into the banter and let it wrap around her.  It's fun and comforting and challenging, but not in a rude or threatening way.  

"Maybe for you." 

"Well, let's make it fair then.  Ask me a question." 

Chloe starts to speak, but the stranger holds up a hand.  "Anything but my name." 

"Do you promise you'll answer?" 

"Was that your question?  Because, Chloe Beale, I would've thought that you'd have something much more creative and...revealing to ask me."   

The stranger winks.  Chloe giggles and she can see the those deep blue eyes get wider as if they're trying to absorb the sound.  Then, the stranger breaks into a huge smile, realizing that Chloe likes their little game of wits -- and is a worthy challenger.

"Something wrong?" asks Chloe.

"Absolutely nothing at all.  Your laugh is... it's just...uh, nevermind"

Chloe thinks she might see the stranger blush, beling the confident swagger, and it only serves to heighten Chloe's curiosity about this puzzle before her.

With a shake of the head, the stranger continues.  "So, Miss Beale... your question?"

"Were you actually invited to the Posens’ party?  And, why didn't Aubrey know who you were?"

"Uh-uh,” the stranger tuts.  “That's two questions. Which one do you want me to answer?"

Chloe rolls her eyes playfully.  "Were you invited to the Posens' party?" 

"Of course! Do you think I'm so crass as to just show up uninvited to one of the biggest social events of the year?  I've known Aubrey since we were young."

"So, why didn't she recognize you?" 

"Well, I can't say for sure.  Firstly, I'm in costume. Second, it's been a while since we've seen each other." 

"Why's that?"

"Chloe, I said one question. You've passed your limit. Not to mention, we are already on your block."

Chloe looks up to see that they've come to a stop in front of her family's brownstone, but neither one is making any effort to rush away. 

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"Maybe someday I'll explain it to you."

"That means I'll see you again?"

"I had a nice walk with you, Chloe.  Thank you." The stranger disengages their hands slowly and starts to back out of Chloe's space, never taking her eyes off the woman.

"Wait!  Can I see you without your mask?  So I can recognize you next time." 

"I thought we agreed, Chloe.  No more questions."

"That wasn't a question.  It was a request. There's a difference."

"Oh so now you're looking for loopholes, hmm?"

"Looking for? I think I already found one," Chloe challenges. 

She giggles again, prompting the stranger to break out in a smile, those deep blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Don't worry. I'll find you again, Chloe.  You're hard to forget," the stranger says softly.

In that moment everything around Chloe stops.  The city noises go quiet and it feels as though it's just she and this stranger in a bubble.  This beautiful, mysterious stranger, who is looking at her fondly. Looking the way Chloe feels -- like she doesn't want the night to end just yet.

But with three words it's over.

"Good night, Chloe. " 

"Good night, Stranger."

Then, for a fraction of a second, the stranger is back in front of Chloe, placing another firm kiss on her cheek.  Chloe gasps at the connection. 

"I'm sorry I keep doing that.  I just...I can't help myself." The stranger chuckles, somewhat embarrassed.

Chloe can only smile and kiss the stranger back.

"There.  Now we're even."

She takes one last look at the stranger's eyes, trying to memorize them until the stranger turns away, retracing the same path that led them here, and never once looking back.

Chloe falls asleep that night with images of the party whirring through her head.  Black and white stripes and deep blue eyes figure prominently in her flashbacks and she's surprised that she's not more...surprised.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's cute that Tom thinks he's got a chance with Chloe...

"Good morning, Chloe"

“Good morning, Mother."

Chloe joins her mother, who is writing some type of correspondence, at the dining room table.  A member of the Beales’ house staff places a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of her. As she wraps her hands around it, she thinks back to her walk home last night and how warm the stranger’s hand felt in hers.  

Mrs. Beale stops writing to look up at her daughter.  “Did you enjoy the Posens’ party last night?”

“Hmm?” 

“I said, ‘Did you enjoy the Posens’ party last night’?  

Chloe’s briefly pulled from her thoughts.  “Yes. Yes, I did. We had a hoot.” And as the last word leaves her lips, she reverts back to her daydream -- one that quickly turns sour because if it felt so right to be so close, so...attracted to someone she’s just met, she knows from past experience her parents, likely her friends, the world, will consider it wrong.  

“I didn’t hear you come in. What time did you arrive home?”  When Chloe doesn’t respond, her mother tries again. “Chloe, where is your head this morning?”

“I’m sorry, Mother.  I’m sorry. What did you ask?”

“I’d like to know what time you arrived home last night.”

“I think around one.” 

For the third time in this conversation, Chloe’s thoughts drift to last night, outside her brownstone, and a stranger in black and white.  Her fists clench because she just wants to be able to feel what she feels...how she feels. And she can’t, though she’s still holding out hope that New York is different.  

As she takes another sip of coffee, she’s vaguely aware of her mother scolding her for one thing or another.  “...That is entirely too late. You're going to get a reputation. Furthermore, Lundy said you didn't take a ride.  How did you get home at that late hour?”

“How did I get home?  I walked.”

“You walked?  Alone? In the city?”  Mrs. Beale slams the lid of her stationary box.  “Chloe!” 

“No, no.  I had company.”  Chloe smiles fondly, remembering the excitement and mystery that hung in the air.  The teasing back and forth.

“Who?  Was it the Reynolds boy?  I saw you dancing with him.” Mrs. Beale’s face lights up.  “He’s quite a catch, I hear.” She bites the tip of her pen.  

“It wasn't him,” Chloe knows that’s the wrong answer, but she has no intention of pursuing Tom romantically, so why excite her mother unnecessarily?

“No?  Well, who saw you home then?”

“Uh, Jack.  Jack Conrad walked me home.” 

“He’s a little young for you, Chloe, but the Conrads are a fine family.  I’ll make sure to thank his mother the next time I see her. Now what about this Tom fellow?”

“There's not much to tell, Mother.  We had a nice dance and he's asked me on a date this weekend.”  Chloe’s finished her coffee and is growing bored of the conversation.  She wants to go back to upstairs to her room and think more about those captivating blue eyes, but she knows that’s not happening anytime soon, and she’s to blame. Or at least that’s what she’s been led to believe.  Deep down she knows she can’t help who she is, what she feels and about whom she feels it. 

“And did you accept?”

“No. I said I needed to check my book.”

“Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it's the truth.”

Her mother stands and forcefully shoves the chair in which she was previously sitting under the table.  “Chloe, you know as well as I that your date book is completely clear for this weekend. At most you have plans with Aubrey or Stacie, which can be easily cancelled.”

“That's rude!  I wouldn't do that to my friends.”

“They're just friends, Chloe.  Tom could be your future husband.”

“He's not.”

“And why is that?”

“I just don't like him.”  

“Chloe,” her mother chastises as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “You are 22-years old and have never been serious about anyone.  You’re the last of your friends to --” 

“That’s ridiculous.  Stacie doesn’t date anyone.”

“Stacie’s different.” 

Mrs. Beale’s comment strikes Chloe. She wonders just how different Stacie is, and what kind of different.  If they’re the same kind of different. Somewhere in the background of her thoughts, Chloe’s mom is still talking.  “Stacie is still in school. I’m sure her parents are lining up young men for her once she graduates.” 

Chloe huffs.

“You need to give Tom a chance.  You can learn to love him. We are not -- I repeat, not -- going to have this turn into Atlanta all over again.”  

“Her mother draws her arm across Chloe's back as she leaves the room in what Chloe thinks is meant to be a conciliatory gesture.  She doesn’t notice the ire snaking up her daughter's face with an undeniable flush. 

Chloe doesn’t want to have to  _ learn _ to love anyone.  She just wants to fall head over heels.  Almost instantly her mind flashes to the previous night and she smiles at how the stranger made her feel safe and wanted. Teased her and made her laugh.  Was charming, caring and gentle. 

Sure, Tom was a gentleman.  He was handsome and smart. He was by all accounts a catch.  So why was he so forgettable? And why couldn’t she tear her thoughts away from those deep blue eyes?

She knew she had to see them again.

XxxX

For the next few days, Chloe thinks she sees her mysterious stranger everywhere.  Riding the El, shopping at Bloomingdale's, lunching with her mother.

And everytime, she's disappointed.  

At tea one afternoon, her mother catches the fall of her face and the sag in her shoulders after  another phantom encounter at the museum.

“Chloe, dear?” 

Chloe looks up from her cup.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, of course.  Why?”

“You just seem less... effervescent, ever since the Posens' party.  Did something happen?” Mrs. Beale passes a cookie to Chloe, but it goes no further that her plate, which she promptly pushes away. 

“No, not at all.  The masquerade ball was keen,” lacking the enthusiasm to match the word. 

“Keen?  Chloe, please.  You're a respectable woman who doesn't need to use that kind of language.”

“Oh, Mother!”

“I worry about you, Chloe.”

Chloe smiles and puts a reassuring hand over her mother's.  “I really am fine.” Though Chloe fully admits to herself she’d be better if she could just see her mysterious stranger again.  

Just then, there doorbell rings and there are hushed voices outside the parlor.

“Chloe!”  She hears her dad call.  “Chloe, dear?”

“In the parlor, Dad.”

Mr. Beale comes into the parlor, followed closely by Tom.  

“Chloe, Tom Reynolds to see you.  Tom, meet my wife, Anne.”

“Delighted, Mrs.Beale.”  He shakes her hand.

Chloe watches the exchange.  He is undoubtedly handsome and charming, though Tom’s charm doesn’t rise to the level of some others -- namely a petite stranger, dressed like a bank robber. 

“Good afternoon, Chloe.”

“Hello, Tom.”

“It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Anne, I think one of the housekeepers had a question about polishing the silver.  Could you...?” She stands, smoothing her dress. “Of course. Lovely to meet you, Tom.”  

“And you Mrs. Beale. Mr. Beale.”

With a hand on his wife’s back, Mr. Beale escorts Mrs. Beale from the room, leaving Chloe alone with Tom.

“Tom,” she says with little emotion.  “This is a surprise.”  _ And not a good one, she thinks. _  Tea?”

“No, thank you.  I’m due for a late lunch with my parents.”

“What are you doing home this early? I thought you had to be in Boston until Friday?”

“My business concluded ahead of schedule and I couldn't wait to get home to you.  I thought I might invite you to dinner and dancing this evening if your calendar is free.”

“I suppose it is.” Immediately, Chloe hates herself for giving in, but the hammer of her mother’s voice in her ear is relentless -  _ We are not going to have this turn into Atlanta all over again.  _

“Splendid.  I'll call on you around 7.  Until then.”

He ducks in for a kiss, but she turns her cheek, flustering him.  “G-goodbye, Chloe.”

“Tom,” She gives him a slight, apologetic smile -- a half-baked attempt to make up for her curt dismissal of him.  

XxxX

“Chloe, you look lovely dear.”

A beautiful Chloe Beale, wearing a pale blue silk dress with thousands of pearls that form a floral pattern, descends the staircase of the Beale home.  The cut of the garment hugs her in all the right places and a high-low hem reveals her long, luscious legs. Her vibrant red hair is twisted up, off her shoulders, revealing a naturally muscular back and a gold chain that belonged to her grandmother.  

“Thank you, Mother.”

Chloe primps a bit more in the mirror, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  Her mother approaches her, putting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. 

“Enjoy your evening, Chloe.  Try to keep an open mind, hmm?”

Arthur, who is reading the afternoon edition of the  _ New York Times, _ while smoking his evening pipe looks over the paper at his daughter.  “You look breathtaking, Chloe. Oh,I meant to ask, is your Mr. Reynolds a member of the club?” 

“I don't know.  I could ask. Why?”

“I'd like to invite him for drinks.  Get to know him a bit. Make sure he’s good enough for my daughter.”

Chloe starts to protest, but Mrs. Beale jumps in.  “Arthur, I wouldn’t strap your cart to this horse just yet.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means we have raised a very... particular daughter, and she's not convinced Tom is the one for her.”

Mr. Beale rolls his eyes and takes an inhale of his pipe. “Just like Edward and Harry and Richard and William and…”

He’s cut off by the sound of the doorbell.  “Well, that will be Tom,” says Mrs. Beale, helping Chloe on with her wrap. 

Mr. Beale opens the door to Tom removing his hat. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Beale, nice to see you again.”

“And you, Reynolds,” says Mr. Beale, shaking his hand.

But Tom’s attention is completely focused on his date.  “Chloe, you look lovely tonight. Shall we?” He extends his arm and Chloe takes it.  Normally, Tom would kiss his date’s hand, but he’s decided he stands a better chance with Chloe if he approaches her slowly, lets her come to him.  

Little does he know, he stands no chance at all, especially considering the competition and the fact that in Chloe’s mind, the choice is clearer day-by-day. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'mysterious stranger' sighting? And if hashtags were a thing back then, I think Chloe might be getting some use out of #MeToo.

Even for a Thursday night El Morocco, one of the city’s most popular clubs, is busy and vibrant.

Chloe has been here many times -- it is one of her favorite places to let her hair down, at least to some degree -- but she has never experienced it like this. 

Tom treats her to a private dining area where they can talk, which is... nice.  Or, would be nice if they had things to discuss. 

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Chloe.  I know a peach like you must have a very busy social calendar.”

“Well it's always nice to meet people and make new friends.”

“Friends?  Oh Chloe, I hope that we can be more than that,” Tom quirks an expectant eyebrow.

“I guess that remains to be seen, doesn't it?” Chloe challenges.  She does it playfully, but pointedly, but it doesn’t seem to have the desired effect on Tom. 

“Maybe I could speed things along.  Care to dance?” He stands and comes around the table to take her hand and escort her the dance floor.  

She swings her legs to the opposite side of the chair from where Tom is standing.  “Certainly, but I think I will powder my nose first. “ 

“Please.”  He waits until she’s standing and then sheepishly takes his seat at the table. 

Chloe makes her way to the bathroom and is standing at the vanity actually powdering her nose when she sees a familiar pair of deep blue eyes on a beautiful petite woman.  She inhales sharply. 

“Could it be?” Chloe thinks to herself.  Her hand instinctively goes to the place on her cheek where the mysterious stranger kissed her on Halloween night. 

The woman looks directly at Chloe and winks knowingly before swinging the door open.  And then she’s gone, vanished into the crowd. 

Chloe leans against the wall outside the bathroom and takes a few deep breaths.  She's surprised -- pleasantly -- that she’s found those navy eyes again but, more than that, she’s stunned that her hunch was right.  Her mysterious stranger is a woman. A beautiful woman at that. 

The feelings of curiosity and attraction are not new to her, but wanting to finally act on them without a damn care for anyone’s -- including and especially her parents’ -- opinions on the matter are brand new.  Freeing. Empowering. Arousing...for various reasons. 

Chloe peels herself from the wall and walks through the club on the hunt for the woman who has stirred up all of this in her but, after coming up empty, she decides she should return to Tom.

When she arrives back at the table, Tom.stands to greet her, taking both of her hands on his.  “Chloe, there you are. I was just starting to get worried. Are you all right?”

For a fleeting moment, Chloe debates lying, telling Tom she’s not feeling well and asking him to escort her home, but as tired as she is of stifling her emotions and as much as she just wants to press the mysterious stranger up against a wall and kiss her beautiful face senseless, she doesn’t want to be completely rude to Tom.  

“Oh yes. I’m fine.  You know how the lines in the ladies’ room can be.”

Tom chuckles.  “Well, no I don’t.  I’m just glad you’re alright.  Now, how about that dance?”

He extends a hand to Chloe.  She takes it, but immediately flashes back to the delicate hand that held hers for 12 blocks on Halloween night.  Tom's just doesn't feel the same. Of course it doesn’t. They're two different hands on two very different bodies.  And it’s no surprise then that Chloe doesn't feel the same when she holds Tom's hand as when she held the strangers -- the woman she's sure she saw in the ladies room.  It's not as warm. It doesn't fit with hers as well, or at all. It feels, possessive, as if it’s an expected or assumed right to hold Chloe’s hand, rather than a privilege. 

That doesn't sit well with Chloe.  She looks at Tom -- his smile, his floppy brown hair, his broad shoulders -- and can’t deny he's a handsome man.  A good man, which makes it all the more frustrating for her that she can't seem to have feelings for her the way she should.  The way her mother and father think she should. The way Aubrey wants her to. 

Even more frustrating for her though is that  _ her _ only want right at this moment is to give herself completely to the woman who has taken over her thoughts for the last week -- the one who she knows absolutely nothing about.  She smiles to herself because she knows it’s silly, this attraction that she has based on...what? A dance? Help with her coat? Fingers delicately interlaced? A chivalrous escort home, followed by a chaste good night kiss?  That’s all nice, Chloe thinks, but the uncertainty lingers. What if Chloe misread the situation? What if the mysterious stranger doesn’t feel the same way? What if they miraculously find each other and realize they’re not even compatible in the first place? 

Then again, Chloe’s absolutely no stranger to flirting.  She fancies herself quite good at it when she wants to be, and she recognizes another skilled flirter when she meets one.  She knows she’s met her match in the stranger, but suddenly feels a wave of hopelessness wash over her. Her thoughts flash forward to a life with Tom, a life put in a nice, neat, socially acceptable box and she cringes.  

Tom must sense something is wrong.  “Chloe?”

The voice snaps Chloe from the battle raging in her head.  “Oh, I’m fine,” she says, stretching a smile across her lips.  “I’m always so overwhelmed by how beautiful the El Morocco is."

“It doesn't hold a candle to you, Chloe.”

She waits for her heart to flutter at the compliment...but it never does.

XxxX

Tom seals his fate that night in front of the Beale brownstone. 

Expectation hangs in the air and Chloe knows -- or she thinks she knows -- how the next few moments will play out.  She resists the urge to roll her eyes at the cliche of it all. 

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Chloe, and I’d like to see you again.” 

“Tom, I -- “ 

“We’ll do anything you like. The theatre.  A museum. A walk through Central Park.” 

He puts his hands on her hips to pull her closer.  Chloe’s hands almost instinctively go to his shoulders to hold him at bay. 

“Thank you for the date, Tom. You’re lovely, but I don’t think -- ”

“That’s right, Chloe, don’t think.  Just -- ” And with that, he pulls her to him and presses his lips against hers.

Chloe bows her back, trying to pry Tom off her and put some distance between them.  When that doesn’t work, she jerks her head to the side -- a maneuver that she’s perfected after countless unwanted advances -- relieved that the sloppy wetness is now only on her cheek. 

It takes about a half second for Tom to notice Chloe has shifted.  “Chloe, what the --?” 

“You don’t just get to kiss me, Tom.  No one does!” she spits as she slides her forearm across her mouth. 

“Hold on! I just paid top dollar for a fancy dinner at one of the most exclusive clubs in the city and you can’t grant me one lousy kiss?”  Tom looks at her expectantly for answer that never comes. She’s gotten good at ignoring this inevitable question because she knows from experience that the real answer will likely infuriate her date further. 

“Are you that much of a prude?  Or maybe all of those rumours I’ve heard about Chloe Beale are true after all,” he sneers. 

With that, he turns on a heel and walks down the street. 

Chloe’s too stunned to cry.  Too stunned to walk away. She just stands there, arms at her sides, fists clenched in white hot anger, not sure what to do next.   She prides herself on her ability to think fast, always ready with a snappy retort, but that was a twist on the typical “you owe me routine” that she didn’t see coming.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal. OK, maybe it's the medium reveal considering what lies ahead.

It's been over a week since Chloe has seen Aubrey and Stacie at the Posens’ party, and an invitation for tea from the latter couldn't come at a better time.

The trio are to meet at Stacie's on Saturday afternoon, but Chloe purposely arrives early to talk to her friend privately.

Chloe rings the bell, and is escorted to the parlor of the Conrads’ apartment on Central Park West by one of the family’s staff.  Stacie is there, reviewing a chemistry textbook. Her head snaps up when Chloe’s presence is announced.

“Chloe!  It’s so good to see you.”  She wraps Chloe in a hug, which Chloe returns happily, but when they pull back, Stacie notices a tinge of anxiety in her friend’s electric blue eyes.  

“Everything OK, Chloe?”

“Oh, yes.  Fine. Just fine, but I was hoping to ask a favor.”

“For you?  Of course! Anything!”

“My mother is going to call on yours to thank her for allowing Jack to walk me home after Aubrey's party.”

Stacie looks confused, trying to reconcile what Chloe is saying.  “But he didn't - I mean, he was with me and Aubrey all night. How could he -- ?”

“You’re right, he didn't.  But I, uh, I said he did so that my mother wouldn't ask questions.  She'd go batty if she found out the truth.”

“OK, just for my own interests, humor me and tell me who did walk you home?”

“I don't know.”

“You don’t know?  So, it was a real Halloween haunting?”  Stacie chuckles at her own joke, but quiets her laughter when she sees the attempt at humor hasn’t had the desired effect on Chloe.

“It was a bank robber.”

“A bank robber walked you home?”  Stacie looks at her incredulously.

“Yes.  Well, no.  Not a real bank robber.  It was someone from Aubrey’s party dressed as a bank robber.”

“A bank robber, you say?  And why can’t you tell your mother that?”

“You think Mrs. Anne Beale is going to accept that a complete stranger walked me home.”

“Well, you must have asked his name, right?  So he’s not a total stranger.”

Chloe chuckles, embarrassed.

“Chloe!  Not to sound like your mother, but you didn’t ask for his name?”

“I did, but they wouldn’t give it to me.”  Chloe opts for a vague pronoun. She has a feeling about Stacie.  That Stacie knows. That they are the same Rather, that they like the same kind of... people, but Stacie hasn’t confirmed any of Chloe’s suspicions so she decides not to divulge any more information than she needs to and not to invite any other questions.  She even goes one step further to change the subject back to her original request. “So, could you please just ask Jack to say that he accompanied me?”

Stacie agrees -- of course she does.  Chloe is one of her best friends. She’d do anything for her, but she isn’t ready to let the topic of this so-called bank robber die...especially when she thinks she knows who it is.

“Chloe, this, um, bank robber? Can you describe, uh, them?” Stacie picks up on Chloe’s earlier choice of words and follows suit.

“I couldn’t forget if I tried, Stace.  Petite. Striking navy blue eyes, and a devilish smirk. “

Stacie’s mind wanders.  “Charming?”

Chloe nods vigorously.

“Funny? Likes to tease?”

“Oh, yes!”

“And you’re...you think you might be attracted to this bank robber?”

Chloe shrugs.  “I don’t really know them, but there’s something…”    

Stacie smiles.  She’s nearly certain she knows who Chloe’s talking about, but she’s not about to let on that she’s familiar with the individual at hand.  More importantly, Stacie is now positive that she and Chloe are more alike than she’d originally thought -- something she’s suspected it for a while, but hasn’t ever really found a way to prove.  Until now.

“Stacie, is there something you're not telling me?”

“Funny, Chloe.  I could say the same about you.”

“I don't know what you mean.”  Chloe can’t look at Stacie. She’s focused on playing with her fingers in her lap.

“You do.  It's the same reason I'm upset about Aubrey's engagement, right?”

Chloe nods.  Her laugh is filled with relief, and Stacie wraps her in a huge hug.

Just then Aubrey’s presence is announced.  She enters the parlor and quirks an eyebrow at the women who are trying their best to mask their smiles.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Of course not, Aubrey!”  Stacie jumps up to hug her.  

Chloe immediately notices the way Stacie lights up as she pulls Aubrey onto the settee next to her.  It’s nothing Stacie hasn’t done hundreds of times before, but this time Chloe can easily read between the lines.  

She watches intently as Stacie gently strokes Aubrey’s cheek.  “Eyelash,” she says as Aubrey's hand instinctively, reflexively comes up to cover Stacie’s before she remembers they're not alone.  She shifts away from Stacie, but doesn’t get far before Stacie threads her fingers through Aubrey’s to tug her closer.

Aubrey looks alarmed.  “Stacie, what are you --?”

Stacie tightens her grip on Aubrey’s hand and pulls it to her chest.  “It's OK Aubrey. Chloe, uh, understands, don’t you?” She throws a wink in Chloe’s direction and Aubrey follows her gaze.

“Chloe?”  questions Aubrey. “Chloe, are you…?”

Chloe shakes her head 'yes' and smiles.

“Is she-?”  Aubrey asks turning to Stacie, still in disbelief.

Chloe bites her lip, glancing up at Aubrey and nods again.

"Chloe...you...I...I really had no idea. I don’t know how I missed it. I guess I should have listened to my girlfrie- ...to Stac-.... to my girlfriend, who seemed to know all along. Wow.  Girlfriend.” Aubrey exhales. “I haven’t said that in a while and it feels really good."

“Feels better to hear you say I’m right,” Stacie sticks her tongue out at Aubrey who laughs and rolls her eyes, before disconnecting herself from Stacie to sit next to Chloe.

“This explains a lot,” Aubrey chuckles nervously, “And I am so, so sorry, Chloe. I - “

"It's OK, Aubrey."

“No.  Please. Let me finish.”  She places a hand on Chloe’s arm in a comforting gesture.

Stacie stands up to close the parlor doors, giving them some privacy.  Aubrey drops her voice to a whisper.

“I am sorry for pushing you to get together with Tom.  Stacie said not to get involved, and I should have listened.  I remember what that felt like to have prospective husband after prospective husband foisted on me, and I never meant to -- I mean, I never would have done that if...if I knew.  Can you forgive me?”

Chloe throws her arms around Aubrey, who smiles into Chloe’s red hair.  “Should I take that as a ‘yes’?”

“Yes,” Chloe says. “Of course.”

Stacie softly kisses Aubrey's cheek before turning to Chloe.  “Was there anyone special in Atlanta, Chloe?”

Chloe mutters a soft “yes” as Stacie sits on the other side of her, throwing an arm over her shoulders.  “But, we were young and then our parents found out.” Chloe wipes the tears that have trickled down her freckled cheeks.  “That’s part of the reason my father moved us to New York. To get away from the rumors and gossip in Atlanta.”

“Is that why you didn’t say anything sooner to stop Miss Matchmaker here?”  Stacie gently pokes Aubrey in the ribs.

“Yes.  I was hoping that I’d meet the right person here because I dread what will happen if -- ”  She thinks back to the other night with Tom and swallows hard. “-- if what happens in Atlanta happens again here, but I just can’t...”

She sobs and Stacie places a comforting had on her shoulder.

“You _will_ meet the right person here, Chloe.  The right person for _you_ .  Not…” Stacie waves a dismissive hand on the air “...any of them. And we can help you.  There are ways around this,” she says with confidence.

Aubrey nods in agreement. "Since your parents want you to marry, you’re going to need a cover.  You know, just like I have Oliver."

Stacie chimes in, "It's called a -

“A lavender marriage,” Chloe interrupts.  “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never met anyone willing to play along.”  

“What about Henry?” Aubrey pipes up, somewhat unprompted.  

“What about him?” asks Chloe.

Aubrey continues: “Why don’t we introduce the two of you?  Henry’s parents really want to see him married, and you're perfect.”  

“Would you be OK with that, Chloe?” Stacie sees the hesitation in her friend’s eyes.  “Regardless of your answer, we’re not done with that conversation we had before about your little bank robber.”

Aubrey looks perplexed, but Stacie catches her gaze as if to say, “I’ll fill you in later.”

“I, um, do I know Henry?”

“I’m not sure you've ever met him, but he's lovely.  I think you'd make an excellent fake couple.”

Chloe laughs.  “All right. When can I meet my pretend husband?”

“The next charity luncheon.  I’ll ask Oliver to bring him.”

“Splendid!”  Aubrey stands as if the conversation is concluded and all the loose ends have been tied up.  But Chloe hasn’t quite reached the finish line yet.

“But, wait.  Stacie, if Oliver isn’t taking Aubrey away from you, why are you still so upset about the wedding?  It means nothing, right?”

Aubrey glances at Stacie and squeezes her hand as she sits back down.  Stacie sighs. "It's just...it’s what the wedding represents. I can't be with Aubrey they way I want to.  At least not out in the world. But Oliver can with no question, and he doesn't even love her. Well," she says, looking at Aubrey. "I'm sure he loves you, but not in the same way I do."

“So, don’t you need a -- I mean, don’t your parents care about your marriage prospects?”

Stacie laughs.  “Chloe, you’ve met my parents. They’re artists.  They’re around people like, well, us, all the time.  This is nothing new. They love Aubrey and just wish it could be easier for us.” She pauses. “All of us. But you’re sweet to think about me.”  Stacie pulls Chloe closer and kisses her temple.

Aubrey stands again, trying once more to shake the weight of the conversation.   “I must say, This has been a very revealing afternoon. Let's put it all behind us and go to the cinema, shall we? There's a Mae West double feature at the Paragon, and I know how much you love her," she says wrapping her arm around Stacie's waist. 

"Not as much as I love you, though."  She pecks Aubrey's lips, and Chloe smiles at her two friends in love, eager for her turn.    

In the meantime, she's happy to be part of a new little secret family.  One that she hopes will someday soon include her mysterious stranger.  

Little does she know, that stranger is already very well known inside this circle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One word: Beca!

It’s after Thanksgiving and New York City has officially turned cold and raw, but the freezing temperatures haven’t kept the city’s socialites from attending a charity luncheon to benefit underprivileged children.  

Chloe makes her way through the crowd, warmly greeting and catching up with those she’s met before.  It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Stacie and Aubrey -- not since her revelation at Stacie’s -- and she’s felt isolated and lonely without them to say the least, so she’s looking forward to some comfortable company.

Aubrey arrives on Oliver’s arm.  Another very handsome young man follows, guiding Stacie in front of him.  They’re all smiles when Chloe approaches capturing her friends in a huge hug.  

When they part, Aubrey takes Oliver’s hand.  “Chloe, you’ve met Oliver.” 

“Of course.  So nice to see you again.  How have you been?”

Oliver kisses her cheek, “Chloe!  I’ve been very well. I’m glad you’re here.  This,” he tugs the other gentleman forward, “is Henry Colbert.” 

“Well, Oliver and Aubrey said you were beautiful, but…wow!”  He holds her hands and steps back to take in all of her. “I seem to have a very fashion forward soon-to-be wife.” He winks.

Chloe’s taken a cue from Marlene Dietrich and decided to wear a pair of trousers and blazer for the event, bucking the still-prominent trend of dresses for society ladies.

“Thank you, pretend husband,” Chloe whispers.  “That’s very sweet.” 

“Henry is the creative director for Burberry, so when he says you’re gorgeous, you know he really means it,” said Oliver.  

Chloe blushes. 

“You really do look stunning, Chloe,” said Stacie. “I wish I could get away with wearing something like that.”

“With your gams, Stacie, I think you'd look beautif-”

Chloe stops short when a petite brunette enters with eyes she recognizes immediately. And she knows the brunette knows who she is when she flashes that unmistakable smirk in Chloe's direction.  Chloe's captivated by how she looks with her hair, which had been tucked up under a black beanie on Halloween, now down and flowing in loose curls over her slight shoulders. That coupled with being able to see Beca's entire face unobscured by the mask she wore across her eyes that night, makes Chloe's stomach drop as if she were on the roller coaster at Coney Island. 

“Beca!” gasps Aubrey and wraps her in a hug.

“Beca,” Chloe repeats the name to herself.  She thinks it’s a beautiful and unusual name -- one that suits the woman before her. 

“Aubrey, I thought I might run into you here.”  

“It’s so good to see you, Beca! I heard you were back in town.”  Stacie winks in Chloe’s direction.

“Happy to see both of you and to be back here.  London is nice but it's not home.”

“Are you staying through the holidays?”  asks Aubrey. 

“Yes, through January.  I’m taking a master class at Julliard.”  She’s answering Aubrey’s question, but can’t quite tear her gaze from Chloe. 

Chloe is speechless, and Aubrey immediately notices the tension between them. 

“Heavens, where are my manners?” Beca Mitchell, this is --”

“Chloe Beale.  I know. Lovely to see you again, Chloe,” says Beca, gently taking Chloe's hand in hers.   

“You two know each other?”  asks Aubrey, looking curiously between Beca and Chloe.

Neither takes their eyes off the other.

“We've been previously acquainted, right Chloe?”

All Chloe can do is nod.  She's finally face to face with the mysterious stranger from Halloween night and now she has a name to go with the face that she hasn't been able to shake from her thoughts since that night.

Beca laughs a little at Chloe.

“You alright, Chloe?  She touches Chloe's arm. 

“I'm - yes, I'm fine.  It's nice to see you too, Beca.”  

“Beca Mitchell!” interrupts a women, who Chloe doesn't know, but who earns a very obvious eye roll from both Aubrey and Stacie.  "Excuse me ladies, I need to steal Miss Mitchell for a moment." 

She whisks Beca away before Chloe can say anything more and she fears that, once again, she'll never have an opportunity to spend any time with Beca, but Beca turns around to send a knowing wink in Chloe’s direction and Chloe can’t help but smile. 

“You two know each other?” Aubrey questions.

Chloe nods.  “Remember at your party when I asked who was dressed as a bank robber?"

“That was Beca?” She looks to Stacie, who nods.  “Did you introduce them?” 

“Not formally,” said Stacie.  “Beca just asked me who the, um, how did she put it?  Oh right, who the ‘achingly beautiful redhead’ was. But she didn’t tell me why. I guess she really didn’t have to.” 

Chloe begins to put the pieces of the puzzle together.  “So, you knew?” she looks at Stacie hopefully. “You told her who I was?”

Stacie nods, but waits for Chloe to continue before saying anything more. 

“But I still don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me her name. And why didn’t you say anything when I told you about the masked stranger who walked me home.  You knew this whole time!” 

Aubrey, feeling a little left out of this apparent matchmaking scheme, takes the opportunity to pile on Stacie.  “You know this whole time and didn’t tell me?” 

“I’m sorry, Aubrey.  It slipped my mind,” she says, somewhat brushing off her girlfriend’s bruised ego and turning her attention to Chloe. “Beca was a little nervous that you might not feel the same.  She didn’t want to scare you off, so she asked if I could just play dumb for a bit until we, um, figured everything out.” 

“Well, now that everything’s out in the open, do you think you might want to get to know her better?” asks Aubrey.

"Very much,” and Chloe can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face nor the feeling low in her stomach as if she were about to free fall off a very high cliff.  But both were short lived. “It sounds like she’s only here temporarily, though.” 

“Instead of college, Beca is studying at the London Conservatory.  She's literally a musical genius,” said Aubrey, “I think she plays something like 13 different instruments.”  

“15,” Stacie corrects.

“I can’t even name that many let alone play them!”  Stacie shrugs and lets Aubrey continue. “Anyway, if I'm counting correctly, I believe she'll be back in New York permanently this time next year.”

“That's...that's a long time.” 

“She's worth it, Chloe.  Trust me,” said Stacie.

“Oh, have you two - ?” 

“What?  No, no. We were never together like that. Maybe there was a little crush at one point, but our families are very old friends.  Beca and I have known each other since we were young. She has a tough exterior. She doesn't let many people in, but I can tell by the way she looks at you…”

“That's very sweet, Stacie, but she’s probably with someone. I mean look at her!” Chloe’s eyes flit to Beca who’s being introduced around the room and of course she picks that moment to glance up in Chloe’s direction, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Leave it to us, Chloe. We'll figure it all out.”

XxxX 

“You’re staring.” 

Beca barely registers that Stacie is standing next to her, following her gaze to Chloe, who is laughing at something Oliver and Henry have said. 

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” 

With that question, Beca blinks and inhales, nodding her head.

Stacie ducks her head to whisper in Beca’s ear, “She likes you, Beca.” 

Beca hums an acknowledgement of Stacie’s comment, never taking her eyes off Chloe.  

“You’re not with anyone are you?” 

“No, not for a while now.  But she seems sweet on him.” She juts her chin in Henry’s direction.

“Absolutely not.  He's Oliver’s boyfriend.  And Chloe’s cover so that you two can date.  You should definitely talk to her. Invite her out.  The six of us could go to the back room at El Morocco.”

“I don’t know, Stacie.  I’m only here for another few weeks before I leave for London again.” 

“When has that stopped you?” Stacie asks, nudging Beca’s side playfully.  “Love ‘em and leave ‘em is your middle name.” 

“Not anymore.  I still love to flirt like it’s a national pastime, but I’ve got no one left now that Gram passed, and I’m starting to want someone permanent in my life.”

Stacie puts a sympathetic hand on Beca’s back, knowing that the emancipation from her parents several years ago, followed by her Gram’s death, has left her without any real family at just 20. 

“Look at her,” Beca continues.  “Why would she want to start something with me, knowing our time is limited?  I mean, she’s so...she’s everything. I see the way people look at her and -- “ 

“But do you see the way she looks at you?”   

XxxX

The luncheon winds down with nearly $5,000 donated to help the city’s impoverished children.  Henry is helping Chloe on with her coat, as they chat with Aubrey and Oliver when Stacie approaches with Beca at her side, but Beca turns to leave when she sees Chloe straighten Henry’s bowtie.

Thanks to Stacie’s quick reflexes, she yanks Beca back eliciting a squeak from the shorter brunette that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group, including Chloe, who practically lights up at being in Beca’s orbit once again.

Beca smiles back, and is momentarily disoriented by Chloe’s eyes -- she’d forgotten just how hypnotically blue they are.  It’s not until Stacie nudges her forward that she actually speaks. "Chloe, may I, um, could we talk?" 

Chloe nods and follows Beca down a short hallway, stopping when they’ve reached the end.  Beca stands with her back to the wall. Chloe halts in front of her. 

"It really is nice to see you again, Chloe.”  Without looking down, Beca links her pinkie with Chloe’s, which causes the latter to giggle.  “And to hear that adorable laugh. I missed it you know?” 

"You’re sweet, Beca.” And Chloe swears she can see Beca blush. 

“Tell me, did you, uh, enjoy El Morocco the other night?” 

“So that was you!  I thought so. And no, it wasn't really a pleasurable evening.”

“I'm sorry. El Morocco is one of my favorites.”  Suddenly, Beca is cursing Stacie for her idea and second-thinking the whole date with Chloe.  

"No, don’t be.  The club is wonderful.  The company just wasn't up to par."

With that, Beca’s confidence gets a slight boost.  "Well, maybe you'd like to try again?" Beca takes Chloe’s whole hand in hers, and Chloe can't resist, remembering how soft the stranger's -- Beca’s -- hand felt on Halloween night. "This time, with me as your, uh, date."

"Beca?"  Chloe looks confused and again Beca starts to panic. 

"Wait, I'm sorry. That was stupid.  It's just... Stacie said...she told me that you were...that you liked -- ”

It’s cute watching Beca squirm, but Chloe’s quick to let her off the hook.  "Stacie’s right, Beca"

"Oh, OK.  Then...?" Beca’s still puzzled.  If Chloe liked her even half as much as Stacie said, why is she hesitating?

As if Chloe can read her mind, “I guess...I just can't believe you're here.  I hoped. God, did I hope, but I never thought I’d see you again." 

"You know what they say.  Third time's a charm." Beca winks at Chloe, nerves abating. "So, um, about that date?"

"I'd love to, Beca."

Chloe is abuzz with energy, which seems to radiate to Beca, who can't help but smile.   She gives her quick peck on the cheek, making the redhead blush. They keep their hands linked until the very last minute possible before they’re back in view of the rest of the luncheon guests, but Aubrey catches them out of the corner of her eye and smiles, nudging Stacie. 

“Everything fine, ladies?” ask Aubrey, her arm linked with Oliver’s.

“Oh, just perfect,” says Beca, her face relaxed and happy, as she subtly moves her hand to the small of Chloe’s back, under the suit jacket she’s wearing.  The action doesn’t go unnoticed. Chloe can feel the heat radiating from Beca’s palm. She thinks it might actually burn a hole through her blouse. It makes her breath stutter, and she finds herself leaning into Beca’s touch in the hopes that what she’s feeling will keep happening.    

“Could Chloe and I interest anyone in El Morocco tonight?” asks Beca.  

Oliver and Henry look to each other and then to Aubrey and Stacie, all of whom agree to meet at the club at 8.

“Chloe, could I maybe come by to pick you up?” asks Beca in hopes of finding as many slices of time to spend with her as possible, the thought of returning to London looming large in the back of her mind.   

Chloe’s about to accept, when Aubrey steps in.  “Beca, maybe it’s better if Chloe just meets us there.  Or if Henry accompanies her.” 

“I’d be happy to,” he says, a little too excitedly earning glares from both Oliver and Beca.  

Aubrey sees Beca’s eyes narrow to slits and her fists clench as she watches Henry offer his arm to Chloe, who takes it smiling.  “You know this has to happen, Beca. If you think you want to be with her for any length of time, it has to be this way.” 

Beca nods.  She gets it.  She does. It’s the price she has to pay for a date -- hopefully many, many future dates -- with someone like Chloe Beale.  Though try as she might, she can’t understand why it has to be this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking: $5,000 seems like nothing for a charity event, but with inflation it amounts to $92K in 2018 terms, so not a paltry sum by 1930s standards.
> 
> El Morocco was a legit club in NYC around this time, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_Morocco) but I have no earthly idea if it had a raging gay back room. I made that up. Go with it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date!

Mrs. Beale rushes to the front door at the sound of the bell.  “I’ll get it,” she yells to the rest of house. She’s eager to be the first to lay eyes on Chloe’s date for the evening. 

Upon opening the door, she finds a dapper young man with a large flower arrangement.

“Good evening, Mrs. Beale,” he says as he peeks around the bouquet and extends a hand.  “I’m Henry Colbert, Chloe’s date for the evening.” 

“Come in, Henry.”  Mrs. Beale backs out of the door frame, and Henry steps across the threshold, removing his hat.  “It’s so lovely to meet you.” 

“Thank you.  And you.” 

“Who is it, Anne?” Mr. Beale shouts from the other room.

“It’s Chloe’s date, Arthur,” she yells over her shoulder. “Come say hello.” 

“Ma’am, these are for you,” he says handing Mrs. Beale the flowers. 

“For me? Why, thank you. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten flowers, isn’t that right, Arthur?”  she says pointedly to her husband, who’s now at her side.

Mr. Beale is caught off-guard, but Henry picks up on her intended meaning immediately and they smile at one another.  

“Arthur, this is Henry Colbert.  He’s taking Chloe out. Henry, Chloe’s father.” 

“Nice to know you, son.  And, good luck,” smirks Mr. Beale as he shakes Henry’s hand.   The comment might unnerve anyone else, but Henry has very little skin in the game other than to make his relationship with Chloe believable.  

Before he can reply though, Mrs. Beale chides him.  “Arthur, please!” she smacks his shoulder, before turning back to Henry.  “Ignore him. So, Henry, where did you meet Chloe?” 

“Oh, her best friend is marrying my best friend.  Aubrey thought we might get on well and, well, this is our first official date, though we’ve had plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“Colbert? Colbert? Your dad a doctor, son?”  

“He is, Sir.  Dr. Colbert on West 86th Street.” 

“And a member of the Yale Club?” 

“Yes, Sir.  He’s there every Saturday night to play poker.”

“Of course, I know him well.  And I lose to him. Often.” Mr. Beale scowls.  “But he’s a fine fellow nonetheless.” 

“I’ll tell him you said so, Mr. Beale.” 

“And Henry, what do you do?” asks Mrs. Beale. 

“I’m the creative director for Burberry on 5th Avenue.”  

“Interesting, Son.  What does that entail?”

“Well, I determine how the store will present all of its merchandise - from the Christmas windows to -- “

“Oh my, I love those!” interrupts Mrs. Beale. 

“Yes, ma’am.  They’re very popular.  I’m also responsible for styling the clothes on sale.” 

“I never thought of that as a job,” Mrs. Beale says, curiously.  

“I can assure you it is. It requires a keen eye and - “

Mrs. Beale watches as Henry’s gaze suddenly shifts from her face, and she follows his line of sight over her shoulder, stopping on a stunning Chloe Beale descending the staircase.

She is dressed in a deep green flapper dress that stops daringly at her mid-thigh, leaving seemingly miles of toned leg exposed. Her hair is all gathered to one side, soft red curls spilling over one shoulder, exposing the expanse of her neck.  

“Excuse me,” he says as he steps past Mrs. Beale to offer a hand to Chloe. 

He looks up at her adoringly. “You look beautiful, Chloe.  I’m honored you agreed to be my date this evening.” Henry kisses her cheek and guides her down the rest of the stairs. 

Mrs. Beale has -- in very short order -- become enamored of Henry.  She clasps her hands under her chin and softly coos as she watches him with her daughter.   

After Henry helps Chloe on with her wrap, Mrs. Beale pulls Chloe to the side, “Henry seems just lovely, dear,” and Chloe giggles.  It seems like a shy, humble response, but really Chloe’s giddy because their plan appears to be working. Henry is his handsome and charming self -- all the things a future husband (a pretend future husband) should be, and her parents are none the wiser.  Mostly though, Chloe loves that she can be relaxed in Henry’s presence because there are no expectations from either of them. 

She breathes a sigh of relief knowing she can answer honestly. “He is, Mother.  I enjoy his company very much.” 

“Dare I ask what happened to poor Tom?  He seemed to be a once and done.” 

Chloe sighs. “Tom wasn’t -- let’s just say we had different, um, interests and leave it at that.”  She can’t tell her mother that Tom tried to forcefully kiss her, much less that he’s clearly heard the rumors.  And she certainly can’t tell her why she wasn’t attracted to him. 

Thankfully, whether he knows it or not, Henry steps in to save her from further questioning as he lightly grips her elbow.   “Ready, Chloe? We have an 8 o’clock reservation.” He extends an arm, which she takes happily. 

“Good night, Mrs. Beale. Mr. Beale.” 

Mrs. Beale watches her daughter, who just radiates happiness, and she can’t help but think that Chloe may have finally found ‘the one.’  “Good night, you two. Enjoy your evening.” She breathes a sigh of relief and waves at them as they descend the stairs of the Beale brownstone to Henry’s waiting car. 

“Why are you getting hung up on this one, Anne?”  Mr. Beale asks as she closes the door. “I’m sure he’s just like all the others.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” 

“No, no Arthur. I think you’re wrong about this one.  There’s something about Henry that’s just... different.” 

She’s right in that regard.  She just has no idea  _ how  _ different he is from all the other men Chloe has dated. 

Meanwhile, Henry helps Chloe into the backseat of his chauffered car before getting in himself, roughly plunking down in the seat next to her with a sigh.  “So, how’d I do?” 

“You were genius!”

“You think they bought it?” 

“Definitely, how could they not?”

“You do look beautiful, Chloe.  You’re going to make Beca’s jaw drop.” 

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” she says as she nudges him playfully.

“Excuse me. Mr. Colbert?” comes a voice from the front seat, clearly awaiting further instruction. 

“My apologies, Albert.  We’re going to El Morocco.”

“El Morocco. Yes, sir.”

“But we’re going to the Piano Room, so the back entrance please.” 

“Understood.” 

Chloe looks at Henry, puzzled.  “I’ve been to El Morocco more times than I can count, but I’ve never heard of the Piano Room or knew that it had a back entrance.” 

“This is your official welcome to the club, Chloe.” 

“The club? What club?”

“You’ll see. Just trust me.” 

XxxX

Albert zips past El Morocco’s main entrance, coming to a stop behind the building near a non-descript door.  Hanging above it is a small neon sign that says “Piano Room.”

Henry steps out of the car and holds out a hand to help Chloe to her feet, leading her inside. 

It takes a moment for all of her senses to adjust, but when they do, she sees it and instantly relaxes.  

Henry leans into her and says into her ear, “This is where we,” he gestures between them, “can enjoy ourselves however we want without fear of...well...anything.” 

Chloe shivers at the thought of not having to hide. Of being able to be close to Beca.  To actually  _ feel  _ Beca.

Though neither realizes it, from afar it looks very much like Henry is whispering sweet nothings in Chloe’s ear.  It sends a flair of jealousy through Beca, who’s watching from across the room, until she feels Stacie’s reassuring hand on her shoulder and Stacie’s words in her ear.  “She’s doing this for you, Beca. Because she wants to be with you. Henry is nothing more to her than a friend and vice versa. Just remember that.” 

Beca closes her eyes and exhales to exorcise herself of those thoughts.  When she opens them, Chloe is standing before her looking like a goddess.  

“Beca, here is your stunning date.” He slips his hand from Chloe’s and grabs Beca’s to connect them.  “Enjoy, ladies.” 

With that, he gives Chloe a peck on the cheek, saving a bigger, less innocent kiss for Oliver.

“Hi Beca,” says Chloe, already mesmerized by those deep, soulful blue eyes.

“Chloe,” Beca breathes out with reverence.  “You look…” She stops mid-sentence to try and find the right word, but she can only laugh at herself. “I can’t figure out how to describe how beautifully perfect you look, but I could probably write a thousand symphonies about it.”

“You’re incredibly sweet, Beca.  Thank you.” Chloe leans in to kiss her cheek, making a once-confident Beca blush.

When they break apart, Beca slips her arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling their bodies closer together and exhaling at how good the contact feels. “Drink before dinner?”  she asks, leading them to the bar.

“Sure.  How about a sidecar?”

“Your wish is my command.” Turning to the bartender, Beca orders two sidecars.  As she waits for the drinks, she turns back around to Chloe. “Thank you for meeting me here tonight.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I was worried that I’d never see you again after Aubrey’s party and when we met again at the luncheon, I thought maybe you weren’t...you didn’t...”

The bartender slides the girls’ drinks across the bar to them.  Chloe moves to pick up her glass, but Beca takes her hand instead.  “I’m telling you here and now, Chloe, I am and I very much do.” She brings Chloe’s hand up to her lips to kiss it, never tearing her eyes from the sapphire blue gazing back at her lovingly. 

While Chloe processes the kiss, Beca gently, slowly threads her fingers through Chloe’s.  “Let’s sit.” She leads them to a large couch tucked in a dim corner, away from the band, the dance floor and the din of customers and staff alike preparing for dinner service. 

Beca is the first to find a seat, leaning into the cushions, her arm slung over the back.  Chloe can choose to sit anywhere else, but -- much to Beca’s delight -- she decides to perch directly next to the brunette so that their thighs are touching, and she swivels her body so that her front is nearly pressed into Beca’s side.   

Beca can smell Chloe’s sweet perfume and she lets it wash over her. She knows Chloe is watching her, but she doesn’t really care.  She just wants a moment to take in all that is Chloe because she knows full well what they’re doing could come to a screeching halt at any moment if the wrong people were to find out. The thought churns up the bile in Beca’s stomach. Even though she barely knows this heart-achingly gorgeous woman seated next to her, what she feels for Chloe is something she’s never felt for another human on this planet.  That’s not to say she hasn’t dated or even slept around, but the intense pull that she has towards Chloe is like a magnet. It may be completely new, but it’s something Beca already knows she can’t live without. 

“So, you asked Stacie about me? Chloe’s comment jerks Beca out of her thoughts.  

“Hmm?”  

“That night at the Posens’ party.  You knew my name because you asked Stacie.”

Beca nods.  

“But, why didn’t you just ask me? I mean, you were brave enough to ask for a dance.  Why not my name?” she asks playfully before wrapping her soft lips -- Beca knows they’re soft.  She hasn’t forgotten the way they graced the skin on her neck the first time they danced -- around the straw in her drink.  It’s not meant to be a sultry, seductive act, but it’s like a siren’s song for Beca and she’s all too willing to let it draw her in and crash her against the shore.  

“Well, I saw you with Stacie earlier in the night and...and I couldn’t stop wondering who you were.  I thought she might know, um, more about you.” 

“But she didn’t.” 

“She didn’t, I thought I’d just find out for myself, but I didn’t want to scare you off by saying something I might regret ”

“Like your name?”

Beca can’t help but laugh along with Chloe’s teasing.  “Maybe it was silly, but I didn’t want you to think I was foolish, or worse, some sort of...of... delinquent or misfit if you didn’t, you know, feel the same, so I thought no names were best until I could figure out if you could possibly feel anything for me.” 

“Beca,” Chloe leans back and against Beca.  Beca drops the arm that’s stretched out along the back of the couch and wraps it around Chloe’s shoulder, fingertips skating softly over freckled skin.  “We barely know each other, but I can say with certainty that if I felt anything more for you than I did the very moment you took my hand and led me to the dance floor, I would’ve probably drowned.”    

A crimson flush washes over Beca’s face and neck.  She closes her eyes as Chloe tucks her head into Beca’s neck.  Beca can feel the gentle caress of her breath there and then those soft lips, sweetly, tenderly grazing the skin and sending an army of goosebumps down her body.  

Chloe giggles at the sensation and lifts her head, right at the same time Beca turns to look at her.  The unplanned choreography of their movements brings their lips together for the first time, just briefly, and it feels like sparklers on the 4th of July wherever she is pressed against Chloe.

When Beca opens her eyes, she feels the weight of Chloe’s hand in hers and Stacie staring down at them.  “Having fun, you two?” 

Chloe nods shyly.

“What can we do for you, Stacie?”

“Well, I’m sorry to break up the party, but they’re serving dinner.”

Honestly, Beca could care less about dinner.  She just wants to be close to Chloe, to feel her skin, the weight of her head on her shoulder, to smell her shampoo and the way her natural scent -- warm, clean and fresh -- collects in the crook of her neck, but she stands anyway, taking Chloe’s hands in hers.

Once everyone is seated -- Chloe sandwiched in between Henry and Beca -- Aubrey lifts her champagne glass.  “What are we celebrating, Aubrey?” asks Oliver.

“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to be surrounded by some of my closest friends and the people they love most.  I’d like to propose a toast to the secret-keepers, liars, lovers and friends at this table. Cheers!”

The entire table clinks glasses and throws back their champagne as the waiters place the first course in front of them. 

XxxX

Once the last bite of dessert has been eaten, the orchestra, Greta Garmin and the Starlites, starts up again.  Everyone is sufficiently tipsy from Prohibition gin -- just enough to feel confident in their poor dancing ability -- but Beca knows from past experience Chloe is the epitome of grace and she can’t wait to have the redhead in her arms.  

She leans to her right, placing her hand high on Chloe’s thigh and turns her head so her mouth is right on Chloe’s ear, her breath causing her date to shiver.  “May I have this dance?”  she asks as she pushes her chair back and helps Chloe up.

“You never need to ask, Beca.  I’m yours.” 

Beca quirks an eyebrow.  “Oh, really?” 

Chloe shrinks back at Beca’s response.  “I’m sorry, that was incredibly forward of me.” 

Beca brings a hand up to Chloe’s cheek, her thumb stroking softly.  “I should be the one to apologize.”

“You? For what?"  

“For not asking you to be my girlfriend sooner.” 

“You were really planning to ask?” 

“Tonight in fact.” 

“Well, you can still ask if you want.  We can pretend I never said anything.” Chloe turns around and then turns back to face Beca.  “OK. Ready? Go!” 

Beca can’t help but smile at how adorable Chloe is as she looks at Beca with anticipation.  “Well, go ahead. Ask.”

“Chloe Beale, will you please be my girlfriend?” says, somewhat bashful.

“Oh my goodness!”  Chloe feigns surprise.  “I never saw this coming, but yes.” 

They’re both laughing.  Chloe drops her head to Beca’s shoulder as Beca curls her hands around Chloe’s hips, squeezing to pull her closer.  

“Perhaps if you walk me home afterwards, we can make it official,” Chloe suggests, her voice deeper than Beca’s ever heard it and it makes her growl low and deep. 

Beca’s instinct, her want, is of course to say “yes,” but she knows full well that Chloe’s caught up in the moment.  She’s forgotten who they are, where they are,  _ when  _ they are.  She’s simply forgotten that  _ they  _ can’t happen.  Or, at least they can’t be obvious about it.  Henry will be the one to sit next to her in the car, take her hand to walk her to the door and -- if he’s convincing enough -- he’ll be the one to kiss her goodnight under the lamp post. 

Chloe immediately regrets the request as soon as it leaves her mouth.  She can see the anguish and frustration written across Beca’s face. She knows and Beca knows that the less they’re seen together, the better.  She also knows that impulse is going to be harder and harder to control as she falls deeper for Beca and the innate need to be closer grows.

It starts sooner much sooner than Chloe expected.  When she feels Beca’s hand on the small of her back, leading them to the dance floor, want and desire overwhelm any and every sense of “right” and “appropriate.”       

They waste no time closing the distance between them as Beca winds her left arm around Chloe’s waist, letting her fingers splay across Chloe’s smooth, bare back.  Chloe drapes her right arm over Beca’s shoulder, immediately playing with the curls at the nape of her neck. They join their free hands, clasping them closely between them at their chests.      

This may only be their second time dancing together, but Chloe loves the way their bodies fit together, joining perfectly, seamlessly, at the hips, bellies, breasts and cheeks.  There’s something intoxicating about being so close to Beca -- how sturdy and strong she is and how safe she makes Chloe feel as she twirls her around. 

Beca cannot tear her eyes from Chloe -- whether her head’s thrown back, laughing, or she’s resting her chin on Beca’s shoulder and nuzzling into her neck.  She has no idea how she’s supposed to end this night and withstand the wait until she gets to see her again -- hopefully away from prying, judgmental eyes. It’s then that the thought of her returning to London at the end of January lurches forward in her brain and for the first time in her life, she thinks music might not be her first love. 

XxxX

Evening slips into early morning and the crowds at El Morocco start to thin.  Beca and Chloe are tucked away on the corner couch they’d occupied earlier, Chloe with her shoes off, feet up on Beca’s lap as Beca walks her fingers up and down Chloe’s leg, as if she’s playing the piano.  

Chloe watches her with a smile and an occasional giggle when Beca hits that spot above Chloe’s knee that she now knows is just a little ticklish.  “Wait,” she says, prompting Beca to halt her movements. “Are you...are you playing ‘Goodnight My Love’ on my leg?”

Beca’s hands still as she gapes up at Chloe.  “Yes. How did you -- ?”

“Years upon years of piano lessons,” she smiles.  “And that is one of my favorite songs. I have the recording, but ever since my phonograph broke, I haven’t been able to play it.”  

Beca raises an eyebrow, making mental note of Chloe’s broken phonograph and then she starts to sing:

_ Goodnight, my love.   _

_ Pleasant dreams and sleep tight, my love.   _

_ May tomorrow be sunny and bright.   _

_ And bring you closer to me. _

Chloe thinks she could listen to Beca sing forever and never feel bored or tired or hungry or anything other than content and happy, but at that moment, a bartender somewhere in the distance shouts “Last call” and the club lights come on, breaking their reverie.  Bursting their bubble. 

XxxX

Chloe knows she has to take in all of this moment, wrapped in an embrace with Beca.  It has to last her until...god knows when.

It’s killing Beca to let Chloe go, to hand her over to Henry to take home.  She stands outside the club next to Stacie, watching Oliver do the same for Aubrey.  “How do you do this...and keep doing it?” 

Stacie sighs.  “It’s not easy, but I just keep reminding myself that she’s the reason why.”   With that, Beca notices Aubrey wink in Stacie’s direction and blow her a kiss before her gaze shifts to Chloe, who looks over her shoulder at Beca.  She flashes a smile, tinged with a little bit of sadness, Beca thinks, and whispers something in Henry’s ear before rushing to Beca to wrap her in a smothering hug that seems to go on forever.

When they finally break apart and Chloe leaves, Beca says, “I’m not sure if that made it better, or worse.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca and Chloe make it officially official.

Chloe wakes up to a fresh layer of white fluffy snow that has muted the typical rhythm of the city.    

Christmas is fast approaching.  It’s usually her favorite time of year but this time, she can’t seem to get in the spirit.  The holiday only seems to mark the passage of time slipping through her fingers, alone and away from the person she wants to be with most.  She’s walled off by a set of ridiculous arcane beliefs that she doesn’t subscribe to and doesn’t see a purpose for other than to make a certain subset of the population wholly unhappy and subject to unnecessary persecution for the sake of others’ comfort.  It’s an unequal, unfair exchange, she thinks -- one that seems to sting more now that there’s something...someone precious at stake. 

It’s been over a week since her date with Beca at El Morocco and Chloe thinks about it constantly.  The way Beca touched her, held her, sang to her. The way she felt immediately after getting in the car with Henry, as if she left a piece of herself behind. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by her mother, knocking on her door.  “Chloe, dear, Henry is here to see you.”

Chloe thought hard.  She was certain she hadn’t made any plans with Henry, so her concern is that something’s happened to Aubrey or Oliver.   Or worse: Beca. 

“Coming, Mother.  Could you please have him wait downstairs?” 

XxxX

Henry was sipping cup of coffee with Mrs. Beale when Chloe entered the kitchen.  She rushed to Henry to give him a quick kiss and she smiled, keeping in mind it all had to be believable. 

“Surprise, cutie,” he said.  “I hope you’re not busy today because I thought I’d give you the first part of your Christmas present.” 

“But Henry, it’s still well before Christmas.” 

“So it’s even more of a surprise coming early, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say that.”   Henry is sweet, and she can’t help but be charmed by him, but it’s concern that’s evident in her eyes.  

She wishes she could ask the question --  _ Is everything OK? --  _ that would let her enjoy this moment.  Thankfully, Henry picks up on the confused look in Chloe’s eyes and tries to reassure her with a wink.  “Just trust me, you’ll love this!” 

Mrs. Beale is bubbling over with excitement.  “Any hints, Henry?”

“No ma’am.  If I say anything now, it will just give it all away.”  He turns to Chloe. “Are you ready?” 

“I’m not sure what you’re up to, Henry, but I can’t say ‘no’ to that face.” 

Henry helps Chloe on with her coat and escorts her out the front door with Mrs. Beale waving furiously to them as they descend the stairs to the recently shoveled street.  “I think,” she says to no one in particular, “I may be getting a son-in-law for Christmas.” 

XxxX

Once they’re a few blocks away, Henry pulls Chloe into a small cafe, confusing her even further.

“Henry, what’s going on?” 

Suddenly, there are two hands over her eyes and a voice in her ear -- “Surprise!” -- that isn’t Henry’s.  

“Beca?”

Chloe turns to face her and Beca inhales sharply at the sight of the woman standing before her.  Chloe’s winter hat is pulled down over her ears, but still allows her red hair to flow out over her shoulders.  Her nose and cheeks are tinged pink from the cold and Beca thinks Chloe could never look as adorable as she does right now.  

Henry kisses Chloe on the cheek.  “We’ll see the two of you back here in an hour.” 

“See you then,” said Beca. 

With that, Henry leaves the cafe and leaves Chloe with no less clarity about what is in store for her.

“Beca, what’s going on?” 

Beca rockets to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Chloe’s lips. “I just wanted to see you, Chloe.  I missed you.” she smirks. "You're very miss-able, you know?"

“I’m - I think it’s wonderful. I missed you too. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” 

“I thought maybe we could take a walk through Central Park.  Is that OK?”

Chloe smiles and nods, watching as Beca tucks her long, dark hair up under a newsboy cap and that wave of bitterness overtakes sucker punches her right in the heart.  She knows why Beca’s doing it -- for Chloe. So she can hold Chloe’s hand, kiss her, be close to her without arousing suspicion -- or worse -- from anyone they might pass on the street.  

XxxX

Oliver rings the doorbell at the Beale brownstone as he balances a large box on his knee. 

Mr. Beale answers the door, giving Oliver a once over and making him suddenly nervous.  “Funny,” he thinks to himself. “Chloe’s father is probably a pussycat compared to Mr. Posen.”  He turns on the charm anyway, removing his hat and extending a hand as best he can without dropping the box.  He knows Beca (and Henry) would kill him if he did.

“Mr. Beale. How do you do?  I’m Oliver Edmund. Henry’s friend.” 

Mr. Beale breaks into a smile and shakes Oliver’s hand.  “Ah, yes. What can I do for you, son?” 

“Well, I hope this doesn’t seem strange, but Henry asked me to bring Chloe’s Christmas present by while they were out.” 

“Ah, a conspiracy, I see.  Well, I’d be happy to be part of the surprise.  Come in out of the cold and set that huge thing down.” 

Oliver does as he’s told and follows Mr. Beale into the parlor, where a lush, green tree stands in the corner.  “Why don’t you put it here, son? If I may ask, what is it?” 

“It’s a record player, Sir.  I believe Henry said Chloe’s broke, so he bought a new one.  There’s probably also some records in there as well.” 

“Well, I don’t know what to say.  That’s quite a generous gift.” 

“Henry thought it would make Chloe happy.” 

“As do I.  A good man, that Henry.” 

“I think so, Sir.” Oliver glances at his watch.  He has about a 15 minute walk back to the cafe. “I’m sorry, I hate to be rude, but I’m meeting my fiancee at two, so I need to be going.” 

“Of course, Santa Claus, don’t let us keep you,” he chuckles.

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Beale”

“And you.  Happy holidays!” 

Mr. Beale shuts the door behind Oliver, who bounds down the stairs, proud of himself.  “Mission accomplished,” he says. 

XxxX

Chloe’s hand is tucked into the pocket of Beca’s peacoat.  Snow in Atlanta was a rare sight, and Beca relishes Chloe’s enjoyment of the cold and the feathery flakes that continue to fall and dot her red hair.  

Beca slips her hand into her pocket, linking her finger with Chloe’s, and pulls her off the path to a group of rocks.  She brushes off the snow and reaches behind the rocks for a thermos and two mugs. 

Chloe laughs.  “What is this?” 

“I thought you might like some hot chocolate and…” she reaches inside her coat and pulls out two small bottles...“some peppermint schnapps.” 

“Well, you’re quite the magician.  You don’t have a rabbit in there too, do you?” She teasingly Pat's the front and sides of Beca's coat, making her laugh and swat at Chloe's hands.

“Maybe.  With my magic act and your fortune-telling, we could take our act on the road.” 

Chloe giggles and Beca thinks there’s no better sound in the world.  The most treasured pieces of classical music can’t compare. 

Beca sits, pulling Chloe onto her lap and handing her both cups as she pours.  Chloe takes a sip and then dips her head to kiss Beca’s cheek. “You’re so sweet.  Thank you.” 

“You deserve it, Chloe.  And more.”

Beca rests her head against Chloe’s back as Chloe watches the ice skaters on the pond in front of them.  Her arm is slung across Chloe’s stomach and she can feel the rhythm of the redhead’s breath. If she let it, it would lull her to sleep.  She hopes someday -- someday soon -- it will. And the sooner she asks, the sooner she’ll know.

“Chloe?”

She feels more than hears Chloe’s hum in response.  

“I want to ask you something.  It’s maybe a little presumptuous, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to say yes.  Do you promise? 

Chloe turns to look at her.  She nods. “I promise.”

“Would you, um…” Beca takes a quick shot of the spiked hot chocolate to smooth her nerves.  She’s usually much more confident in situations like this. “Do you want to…” Beca exhales and pulls at her cap, frustrated that she can’t say the words.  

Luckily, Chloe is patient.  She tugs Beca’s hand away from the brim and simply holds it in her lap, stroking over the back with her thumb.  When Beca finally looks into her eyes, the words seem to just untangle themselves and spill out. “I’d like it if you’d spend New Year's with me. My grandmother left her me house in the Hamptons. I don't use it much because I live in London, but -- ” 

Before Beca knows it, she’s on her back in the snow with a beaming Chloe Beale on top of her, peppering kisses all over her face.

“Chloe...”  _ kisskisskisskisskisskiss. _ “Chloe...”  _ kisskisskisskisskisskiss. “ _ Chloeeeeeee!...”  _ kisskisskisskisskisskiss _ .  

Alternating bursts of laughter and affectionate yelps between them, coupled with the cold and the feelings they both know have firmly settled within them leave them breathless. 

Chloe sits back on her haunches and takes Beca by the hand to pull her up, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek that Beca playfully wipes away.  “So, no then?” she jokes. 

“Shush, you.  I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a better Christmas present.”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“I did get a Flossy Flirt doll once, which is  _ almost  _ as good.” "Well, I'm glad my offer is right up there with a doll that pees." Chloe starts to protest, but the way Beca is smiling at her -- beaming at her, actually -- is completely distracting. She grips the collar of Beca's coat to pull her closer, her eyes never leaving the brunette's. "You know...I've heard that the way you spend New Year’s eve is the same way you’ll spend the rest of the year. So, if I get to spend New Year’s with you…” 

Beca knows exactly what Chloe is thinking because the thought hasn’t crossed her mind any less than 10,000 times since meeting the redhead, but before she can say any more, Beca surges forward, hands on Chloe’s cold, pink cheeks as she kisses her soundly in the middle of Central Park with the snow falling down and sticking to Chloe’s eyelashes.   If she didn’t know any better, she’d think this was a goddamn Currier & Ives painting -- the moment was  _ that  _ perfect.

And then Beca has to taint it. 

“I’m happy you’re so excited, Chloe, but what will your parents say?”

Chloe drops her hands from Beca’s face abruptly, her brow furrowed, and she brushes the snow from her pants.  “Beca, I may not live in London. And yes, my parents are traditional. I’ll live with them until I get married…” Beca swallows hard at that word, knowing full well she won’t be the one Chloe marries, at least not in public, but she finds herself surprised and somewhat startled when she thinks about how badly she wants Chloe to be hers, even if it’s in private.  Even if it’s unofficial.

“But I am  _ not  _ 12 years old.  I can come and go as I please, and I don’t need to ask their permission or wait for their approval,” Chloe huffs. 

Beca knows it’s probably demeaning and minimizing to smile at Chloe’s annoyance, but she can’t help the smile that spreads across her cold, stiff cheeks at the woman standing in front of her.

“Chloe, look at me.” Beca crooks a finger and tucks it under Chloe’s chin to raise her head so they are eye-level. “I never once doubted your independence, and I’m sorry.  I was more asking about the logistics -- how we make it believable.” 

Any fantasies about being alone with Beca -- alone for the very first time.  Ever -- that Chloe has had since Beca proposed their little getaway a short few minutes ago have been tossed aside to make room for the complex story they’ll need to weave to make this trip possible. 

“If it helps,” Beca offers, “I thought maybe Stacie, Aubrey, Oliver and Henry could come with us.  You know, to provide a bit of cover. Would you -- do you think that could work?” 

Chloe nods.  “I could easily ride with Stacie and Aubrey.  Or Henry.” 

Of course she has to mention Henry, but Beca bites back a comment reminding herself that Henry is the reason this is all possible in the first place.  

“Yeah?  Good Well, we’re due to meet everyone for a late lunch so let’s ask them.”  Beca reaches out a hand and breathes a small sigh of relief that Chloe takes it.

XxxX

The group is a few rounds of eggnog into the late afternoon, laughing and teasing, excited to spend New Year’s in the Hamptons, when Henry circles the table to whisper something in Chloe’s ear that has her nodding a little too eagerly for Beca’s liking. 

Chloe seems to notice the ire creeping up inside Beca and quickly presses a kiss to her temple to soothe her.  It’s such a natural gesture -- one that doesn’t register with any of their friends as odd or unusual -- but Beca’s breath hitches as she realizes what a risky, and frankly ballsy, move for Chloe to make.  On another woman. In the middle of the afternoon. In public. It warms Beca’s heart when she thinks that Chloe is really committed to this. To her. 

“Henry asked if I could meet his parents after Christmas.  On the 28th. That won’t cut into our trip, will it?” Chloe asks innocently as she tucks a strand of hair behind Beca’s ear. 

“No, it won’t,” Beca rushes out.  “But, you can’t -- you have to stop that, Chloe. We’re in a restaurant.”  Beca doesn’t know whether her resistance is because she’s worried about coming under prying, critical eyes -- mostly for Chloe’s sake -- or if she’s just flat out turned on by Chloe’s increasing degree of affection, which she can’t seem to get enough of and which Chloe seems more than willing to offer.  

XxxX

They’ve made a plan for New Year’s. Beca is taking the train the day after Christmas to get the house ready.  Henry will drop Chloe at the train station after their lunch with Henry’s parents on the 28th, and Beca will meet her in the Hamptons, giving the girls some privacy until everyone else arrives on the morning of the 30th.

Chloe thinks it’s the best Christmas present ever and she makes a mental note to thank Beca properly -- maybe two or three times -- for suggesting it.  For now though, she curls her fingers around Beca’s shoulder as her lips again grace the brunette’s cheek before pulling back to whisper in her ear, “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

Beca’s eyes go wide and she swallows hard as she wonders to herself if 1932 will go out with a literal bang. 

Happy New Year, indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not the first time she’s thought about Beca and gotten turned on, but it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to do this. Merry Christmas, Chloe. 
> 
> (And thanks to everyone who's stuck with the story through 9 very "PG" chapters. Let's knock it up to NC-17, shall we?)

The entire Beale house smells like cinnamon.  And pine, thanks to the huge Christmas tree Chloe’s father just had to have.  

Chloe is excited to go downstairs and spend Christmas morning with her parents, opening gifts, but there is a part of her that is content to lie buried under a white, fluffy down duvet and think about Beca -- specifically what it would be like to be with Beca under said duvet.  What it would be like to wake up with  _ her  _ and her alone on Christmas,  _ their  _ Christmas in their own apartment.  

_ Chloe wakes up surrounded by the white duvet that smells of Beca, but when she reaches over, she finds her side of the bed cold and empty.   She wanted Christmas morning cuddles. Instead she gets up to go in search of her girlfriend.  _

_ Beca is sitting on the floor of their apartment, placing presents under the scrawny tree they bought from a vendor on the sidewalk.  When she sees Chloe, she leans back against the couch, legs out straight, and pats the floor in front of her -- an invitation for Chloe to sit, which she does, sinking back into Beca.  Beca wraps her arms around Chloe’s waist, threading their fingers together. “Merry Christmas, Chlo-bear,” she says, pecking the redhead’s cheek. Chloe smiles and tilts her head toward Beca, nipping her earlobe and kissing along her jawline, drawing a soft moan from her. _

_ Beca leans into Chloe, cupping her cheek and turning her face so that she can kiss her properly. Her lips and cheeks are cold from the winter air that always seems to find its way in through cracks and crevices in the windows of their apartment, but with the press of their bodies and Chloe’s warm mouth on hers, all Beca can see, hear, feel, taste is Chloe. _

_ If her intimacy with Chloe was a symphony -- and it very well may become one because Beca has no other outlet through which to channel the throbbing intensity she feels when it comes to her girlfriend -- the next movement would be Beca’s hands stroking against the silk of Chloe’s pajamas and then untying the sash to loosen the waistband of her bottoms.  Chloe instinctively knows Beca’s “tells” by heart. She knows the message Beca is sending -- possibly the only thing better than Christmas morning cuddles -- and she answers by bending her legs at the knees and tipping her hips up.  _

Chloe is lying on her stomach, eyes fluttering as she imagines what Beca is going to do to her.  She pushes her hips into the mattress, trying to relieve some of the pressure that’s building between her legs.  When she does, the silk of her tap pants rubs against her clit in the most delicious way, and Chloe wonders whether she’ll even have to touch herself or if she can just get off to the sensation of smooth, silky fabric against sensitive, silky heat. 

_ Beca’s hand dips below the waistband of Chloe’s pants, splaying on her lower belly and pulling Chloe back into her, deepening their kisses. Chloe inhales sharply as Beca continues down through a soft puff of damp, strawberry blonde curls and gently slides her finger across Chloe’s clit. Her touches are slow, gentle, and the contact has Chloe grasping at Beca wanting, needing to feel more of her.   _

Chloe once again pushes her hips into the mattress, sighing as she feels her abdomen tighten and her clit pulsing from the friction.  She could come -- the thought of Beca touching her, something they haven’t actually been able to do yet, does that to her -- but she’s enjoying herself too much to let go so soon.  Instead, she turns over and slides her hand up her camisole to massage her nipples. She loves the way she’s able to make them hard, just by smoothing her palms over them, and she can't wait for Beca to do the same.  This time though, rocking them against the sleek material of her top while she was on her stomach has done the work for her. They’re already sensitive, so much so that she flinches from her own touch, but that doesn’t stop her from roughly toying with them until they are so stiff, it’s almost painful.  Painful how badly she wishes Beca’s mouth were on them, lips wrapped around them, tongue flicking them, and Beca swooping her arm under Chloe’s back to sit her up so that their breasts press together. 

_ When Beca adds another finger and starts to scissor Chloe’s clit between them, Chloe can’t help but roll her hips into the touch.  Parting her legs further, draping them over Beca’s, increases the surface area of wet, aroused skin available to tease. It amps up every caress between her lips.  Beca continues to stroke her slowly, almost idly, as if without a mission or a purpose, her fingers massaging every accessible part of Chloe - her bikini line, her lips and dipping just inside.   _

_ Chloe doesn’t need to look to see how swollen she is.  She can feel the fullness when she squeezes Beca’s hand with her thighs to try to find some relief.  Beca smiles smugly against her shoulder and continues to rub her clit, alternating between the pads of two fingers, and the tip of one.   _

Chloe is breathing hard when she stops touching herself completely.  The ache is relentless, but she smiles at the way she’s able to stop herself from coming.  She likes withholding her orgasm as long as she possibly can, so that it builds up and up and up to such an intolerable level that she almost blacks out.  Years of honing this...skill -- for lack of a better term -- makes it possible for her to bury a dick, fingers, a dildo inside her and hold it there for minutes at a time.  Her pussy flutters around it -- her partners have said the feeling is a turn-on -- but she rarely comes involuntarily. 

The last few minutes of writhing against her mattress have twisted her bottoms.  Rather than right them, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband to pull them down, just below the triangle of neatly trimmed fuzz.  She lets the fingers of one hand play there for a while, teasing herself before sliding her down the entire length of her pussy. She’s so wet and relaxed that she can easily fuck herself with two fingers, curling them inside so that she can reach that one particular spot that makes her pant.  

_ She loves the way Beca’s fingers feel against her silky heat. Her head lolls back on Beca’s shoulder, leaving an expanse of neck that Beca wastes no time kissing -- gentle suction that soon turns to teeth scraping against skin, only to be soothed quickly by a rough tongue.  _

_ A hand slides up Chloe’s stomach, under the hem of her shirt to palm her bare breasts. Beca loves the fullness of them and their weight in her hands.  She squeezes and Chloe arches her back to push more of herself, to give more of herself, to Beca.  _

Chloe bends her knees so that she can dig her heels into the mattress to try and brace herself against what she knows is going to be an intense orgasm.  She’s been touching herself for more than a half-hour -- the first time she’s let herself do so thinking of Beca, and she wonders if Beca does the same to thoughts of her, too.  The pressure is building to an enjoyably unbearable level. 

_ “Inside, Beca.  Please,” Chloe rasps.  She feels Beca remove her fingers from around her clit and easily slide them back to her entrance, where she hovers before dipping a finger in, facing little resistance.  Her arm wraps around Chloe’s hips to slow her thrusting. Beca’s in control; she sets the pace, and she wants Chloe to take her fingers slowly, to feel everything.  _

_ Beca slips another and then another finger inside, filling Chloe.  The sound of her wetness surrounding her girlfriend’s fingers is downright dirty and it ratchets up Chloe’s arousal even more.  She exhales, loving that Beca is finally working slowly inside her. Loving the way Beca flexes and wriggles her fingers against Chloe’s tightening walls, the way the rest of Beca’s hand cups Chloe’s pussy, letting her rock her clit against Beca’s open palm.  _

Chloe’s vision is so intense, so real that she realizes fucking herself isn’t enough to get her there.  She dips her other hand into her tap pants and almost immediately recoils when two fingers press on her clit.  One pulls the hood back, exposing the sensitive knot, which Chloe rolls back and forth, up and down. 

_ Beca holds Chloe tight to her as she writhes against Beca’s hand, rolling her hips to push her fingers deeper.  Beca reads Chloe, knows she's close. She can feel Chloe's pussy contracting and lengthens her strokes to draw out her orgasm, spreading her fingers to make sure she can fill every inch of Chloe.   _

_ The pace of Beca's thrusts increases.  She’s on edge almost as much as Chloe, wanting her to come on her fingers, all over her hand; waiting to feel her. _

_ “Oh, Beca.  Bec…” Chloe can't stop the desperate groan that starts at the very back of her throat.  She reaches back for anything ‘Beca’ that she can latch on to. _

_ “Tell me, Chlo.” It's this nickname that makes Chloe reflexively clench around Beca’s fingers.  “What do you need?” _

_ “I need...god… I need to come.” _

_ Beca withdraws her fingers slightly, enough to slide herself over Chloe's leg so she's sitting in directly front of her.  Chloe leans back, her arms behind her back supporting her and tilts her hips forward, tipping her pussy up to Beca, who is folded at the waist.  She can smell how aroused Chloe is and wastes no time kissing up Chloe's thigh. _

_ The pressure between Chloe’s legs is unbearable. _

The pressure between Chloe’s legs is unbearable.

_ She pushes herself into Beca, desperate for more friction -- for the touch or rub or suck that will tense her entire body and then send her orgasm surging through the way the ocean unleashes a tidal wave. _

_ Beca drags her tongue up the sensitive skin between Chloe’s thigh and her pussy.  Chloe weaves her fingers through Beca’s hair, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place.   _

_ She feels Beca’s hot breath on her clit, before lips curl over her teeth to nip and suck at the apex of overstimulated, overheated nerves.  A tongue flicks out from between lips - just the tip at first to roll her clit, followed by the flat of it applying just the right amount of pressure in each stroke she takes up the length of her pussy. _

Chloe's body is at a crossroads. It wants to give out from the sheer exhaustion of holding back for so long and, at the same time, give in to the release that is going to wrench her body from the bed.

_ Beca’s lips are wrapped tight around Chloe’s clit and Chloe can feel more than hear her mumble, the vibrations adding a new wave of pleasure against her.  She drag her lips across and away from Chloe and with more clarity looks up at her girlfriend and repeats herself so she’s heard clearly. _

_ “I love you.” _

_ And with that, the pulsing heat between Chloe’s legs erupts. Beca’s lips are wrapped back around her, and she comes.  She comes in Beca’s mouth. _

Chloe comes.

She comes hard.  She is sweaty, limp, sore. Of course she feels good, but none of it is real. Not yet.  

The bead of sweat that rolls down her cheek isn't sweat after all, and Chloe realizes her moment of pleasure has passed into sadness, but she knows she can't telegraph anything other than cheer this morning, at Christmas breakfast, at church service.

She unburies herself from the duvet that started this whole fantasy and cleans herself up, willing her emotions to cooperate until she sees Beca.  Until she has Beca alone in two days.

XxxX

The large box allegedly from Henry -- the one Mrs. Beale is simply giddy over -- is the last present Chloe opens and she’s breathless.  The record player itself is beautiful, but the inscription underneath the lid -- “To the first of what I hope are many holidays together, making beautiful music” -- is even more touching. For a moment, she's puzzled as to why Henry would get her such a thoughtful gift, or any gift for that matter. Yes, they’re friends, but they owe each other nothing.  Certainly nothing this sentimental.

Then, she unwraps the stack of albums.  Flipping through them the first time, she's really only paying attention to the artists and occasionally turning the covers over to see what songs are included.  When she stacks them again, the particular order of four discs catches her eye:

Billie Holliday

Ella Fitzgerald

Cab Calloway

Andrews Sisters

And Chloe can't help the yelp of sheer joy that she lets out.  It's then it occurs to her that Henry was just a red herring, a ruse, once again acting as Chloe's ideal cover and doing a damn fine job.

Mrs. Beale was touched that Henry remembered Chloe's love of music and the fact that he replaced something that meant so much to her.  Chloe's fairly certain that if Henry showed up with a ring, she'd be getting fitted for a wedding gown first thing tomorrow. Thankfully, that (fake) milestone is still a ways off.  Especially since she still needs to pass muster with his parents. Without their approval they can’t continue this charade, no matter how badly they need each other.

She can't believe Beca remembered and went to all the trouble of selecting a turntable, getting it engraved and coordinating with Henry and Oliver to ensure it arrived here for Christmas. It makes her that much more excited to see her in a few days and to give her the gift she picked out.  She hopes it matches Beca’s level of sentimentality.

But first she has to focus on delivering a Hollywood-worthy performance in front of Dr. and Mrs. Colbert.

XxxX

Henry’s family lives on Riverside Drive between 72nd and 73rd Streets in a large house, bordering on a mansion, that takes up nearly the entire block.  

Chloe’s not going to lie.  She’s nervous, not necessarily about meeting Dr. and Mrs. Colbert -- she’s met her boyfriend’s parents before and she knows she can turn on the charm without coming across as flighty or needy. This time, she’s worried about being convincing. Now more than ever, this -- their fake love -- has to work.  And it has to work for more than just the two of them. If they’re found out, Aubrey and Oliver’s lives will be turned upside down as well, and Beca and Stacie will be collateral damage. 

Henry is the first to greet Chloe at the door and she breathes a sigh of relief at his beaming smile.  He escorts her into the parlor and sends her a shot of clear, cool gin to calm her nerves while he rubs her shoulders.  

“You look beautiful.  Frustratingly so.” 

Chloe looks over her shoulder at him, questioningly.  He laughs. “Let’s face it, Chloe. Someone would have to be dumb or blind to think you’re not gorgeous.  I mean, I think Oliver is as handsome as they come, but even can’t look away from you sometimes.” 

“Henry!” Chloe playfully slaps his chest.  “I’m flattered, but don’t you dare let Beca hear you say that.” 

“Never!  I can admire from afar, but to be honest, I probably wouldn’t even know where to go from there.”

“Thank you for doing this, Henry.  It’s important.” 

“I know, Chloe.  I have a lot riding on this too.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean -- I know, I just -- “   
“No, no, it’s my fault.  I wasn’t trying to put pressure on you.  I was more just saying that we’re in the same boat.  Same important people at stake.”

Chloe stands up and starts to pace.  Henry steps into her path grips her biceps, stilling her.  “You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. And just think, in a few short hours, you’ll be with Beca.  Speaking of which, any special plans tonight?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making Chloe giggle.

Just then, the doors to the parlor open.  “Henry said you had a wonderful laugh. He wasn’t wrong.”  A beautiful woman with long blonde hair enters the room. Chloe thinks she looks a lot like Aubrey will look in about 30 years.  Kind. Sage. Wise. Mrs. Colbert extends a hand. “You must be Chloe. I am Victoria, Henry’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Colbert.”

“Nonsense.  It’s Victoria.  And that’s the last I’ll hear of that.”  She turns her attention to her son. “Henry, will you please check on lunch and find your father.  He’s all wrapped up in trying to fit another one of those godforsaken ships in a bottle.” Chloe can’t help but giggle at that, making both Henry and Victoria smile.  

“Chloe, thank you for coming.  I’m sure you’re missing time with your family to be here over the holiday.” 

“Oh, nonsense.  I’m happy to meet you. Henry talks about you both all the time.”

“Well, he can’t say enough good things about you, my dear.  Now tell me about you. You’re from Atlanta, isn’t that what Henry said?”  

“That’s right. My father moved us here two years ago so that he could take over the family business.”

“And how are you finding the city?  Must be quite a switch from the South.”

“Oh, I love it.  There are so many places to occupy my time.  I don’t think I’ll see them on all in a lifetime. I’ve also made a few close friends and then of course meeting Henry…” 

“Changed your life?”  Henry peeks around the corner with a smile and Chloe can’t help but smile back.  While she may not love him in the romantic sense, she’s very fond of him and feels comfortable with him.  Perhaps it’s because she knows, like most other men, he expects nothing from her...except to be charming and believable.  

He’s turning into a good, trustworthy friend and Chloe can’t bear the thought of letting him down.  At the same time, she’s already quite fond of his parents and dreads how they’ll respond if...when... _ no, if _ ...they learn the truth.  

“Henry, I don’t recall inviting your ego to lunch,” Victoria teases and Chloe giggles.  “Bless your heart for putting up with him. Henry’s father is very much the same.” She leans into Chloe to whisper.  “I can give you a few pointers.” 

“Oh no, I’ll not have the two of you conspiring against Dad and me.” 

“Who’s conspiring?”  a new booming voice enters the room.  Chloe looks up to see an older version of Henry standing before her, hand extended.

“This must be the lovely Chloe Beale.  I’m Lyle, Henry’s father.” 

Chloe takes his and and shakes.  “A pleasure, Sir.” 

“Sir?” Lyle laughs. It’s a loud laugh that reverberates throughout the parlor.  “Sir? Sir was my father’s name. Believe it or not, even my mother called him that.   It’s Lyle, please.” 

“OK, Lyle it is,” said Chloe, feeling a bit more at ease knowing that Lyle was just as kind and easygoing as his wife. 

“That’s better.  I’m so glad you could join us for lunch, Chloe.  Speaking of which, I believe they’re ready for us in the dining room.”  

Lyle extends an arm to Victoria to escort her.  Henry waits a beat before doing the same for Chloe and leaning into her.  “You doing all right?” 

“I’m fine. Your parents are lovely people. I hope they like me.”

“What’s not to like, Chloe? You’re the total package. Anyone can see that.”   He kisses her on the cheek as they make their way to the table. 

XxxX

Chloe thinks she’s never had food this delicious.  Amelia, the Beales’ cook was trained in France, but even her skills can’t match that of the Colberts’ chef.  He’s masterful.

“Another slice of banana cake, Chloe?”   
Chloe pushes back from the table.  “Thank you. Banana cake is one of my favorites --” 

“Henry mentioned as much.” Victoria winks at her son.

“And that was some of the best I’ve had, but I think if I have one more bite, I’ll explode!”  She thinks for a minute. “But, do you think your chef would give me the recipe?” 

“You like to bake, Chloe?”  asks Victoria.

“I do.  I cook and I bake, and I like to experiment with new recipes.” 

“Well, I’ll check with Frederic to see whether he’d be willing to share.”  Victoria excuses herself. 

“So, you’re a cook and a baker.  What else do you enjoy, Chloe? Let’s hear about you.” 

“I love music. All kinds.” 

“That’s right, Dad. She has a record collection that could rival yours.” 

“Is that so?”  He shoots a mock glare at Chloe.   

“I’m not sure, Lyle.  Henry said you have walls upon walls of records. I don’t think I could compete with that.” 

“Well, let’s just go find out, shall we?” He pulls out Chloe’s chair.  “And anything you find that you like, I’m happy for you to borrow.” 

Chloe looks over her shoulder at Henry who flashes her a huge smile.  “Just don’t lose track of the time, Chloe. We have to leave for the train station at two.”   

XxxX 

Chloe and Henry are in the back of a car, headed to Grand Central.   “Your dad is so generous. I can’t believe he let me borrow all of these records.” 

“I think you were a hit, Chloe.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Henry looks confused.  “Chloe, this is good.” 

“It’s good until they find out the truth.  I mean, I’m determined not to let that happen - “ 

“As am I.”

“But what if we slip up? They’ll be devastated.  They’ll hate me.” 

“Chloe, do you want to be with Beca?”

“God, yes.”

“And I want very much to be with Oliver.  So we just have to work together to make sure our stories are tight.  Always. I’m committed to that -- for him, for you and for Aubrey and Stacie.” 

Chloe sighs.  “Me too.” 

“Right then, you’re going to see Beca in just a few hours.  Focus on that and on her. Don’t worry about the rest. You have no reason to.” 

“You’re right.”

“That’s my girl,” he says as the car comes to a stop in front of Grand Central.  Henry rushes around to Chloe’s side to open the door for her and help her out before grabbing her luggage from the driver.  

“I’ll see you in two days.  Until then, enjoy your time with Beca.”  He makes silly kissy noises that cause Chloe to giggle before leaning in to place a kiss her cheek. “For good measure,” he says.  

Chloe knows the odds of someone they know watching them are slim, but she appreciates Henry’s thoroughness.  It’s the only way they will survive this. 

“Behave!” she says.  

“I should say the same to you!” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw*t blocked not once but twice. Sexual frustration at its finest.

Tw*tblocked not once but twice.  Sexual frustration at it's finest.

 

Chloe isn’t hard to spot at the train station.  First, it’s a small station. Second, Chloe’s red hair makes it impossible for her to blend in, even if she tried. 

When Beca finds her neon blue eyes at the other end of the platform, she wants nothing more than to run to her, wrap her up and kiss her senseless.  Instead, she approaches Chloe with determination and pulls her into a hug, fighting hard to resist the urge to press her body close to the redhead's.  The attraction is palpable, but she manages to hide it with a chaste embrace that leaves a huge gap between their hips, stomachs and chests. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” says Beca whispers, trying to keep her excitement in check.

“Hi,” breathes Chloe into Beca’s hair.  “I missed you.” 

They’re pressed cheek to cheek and Chloe feels Beca’s hands flex around her waist.  “I missed you too,” she says into Chloe’s ear. “Let’s go home.” 

Beca takes Chloe’s bag and leads the way outside the station to a bright blue Packard 12 parked outside.

“Beca, is this your car? It’s huge!” 

“Well, it was my grandmother’s. She left it to me along with the house.”  She opens the passenger side door for Chloe. “I don’t drive it unless I’m here.”  She moves to the trunk to deposit Chloe’s bags before getting into the drivers side.  

“Can you even see over the steering wheel of this thing?”  Chloe laughs. 

“As a matter of fact…” Beca reaches behind the seat and hefts a copy of  _ Remembrance of Things Past  _ on to her lap.

“Proust?” Chloe raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s 4,200 pages. The perfect height.” She sits on the book.  “And what else are you going to do with it? Read it?” Beca asks incredulously.  “Now, if you’re done criticizing...?.” 

Beca slides her hand across the seat in an attempt to rest it on Chloe’s thigh.  When it doesn’t quite reach, Chloe giggles and moves across the bench seat to be closer to Beca. 

XxxX

The 40-minute drive to Beca’s house is punctuated by caressing hands, tickling fingers and longing glances.

By the time they park the car and stumble inside, they’re both breathless from all of the flirting and teasing.  

Chloe removes her coat and Beca can’t help the way her eyes rake shamelessly up and down Chloe’s form.  She’s wearing a pair of blue sailor pants that grip her waist in the same way Beca so desperately wants to -- hell,  _ needs  _ to -- and a slim-fitting cream and blue argyle sweater.  

She winks at Beca when she notices her gaze, which Beca takes as a green light to step right into Chloe's private space to grip the redhead’s hips. 

Chloe hums when she feels Beca’s hands slip to the small of her back, drawing her into a much different, more intimate embrace than the one they shared at the train station. 

Their foreheads are pressed together, and Chloe can feel Beca’s breath on her lips only for a moment, before Beca tilts her head so her nose is nuzzling Chloe’s.  Chloe nudges back playfully, but her rapid breaths suggest she's something other than playful.

Beca gets the message loud and clear, skating her lips across Chloe’s -- softly and just barely there, almost as one skims a toe across the water to test the temperature before plunging in.  

It's Chloe who cups Beca’s cheeks in her hands and brings them together more soundly.  It’s Chloe who smiles into the kiss. But it’s Beca who glides her tongue along the seam of Chloe’s lips, earning a moan that spurs her on.

Chloe, rarely the submissive, lets her head fall back, exposing the expanse of skin on her neck.  Skin that Beca cannot resist. Skin that smells fresh and fruity, scented with bergamot and peaches.  Rumeur or some similar perfume, Beca guesses. 

She nips a trail from Chloe's earlobe to her collarbone, stopping only to soothe over the areas where her teeth graze flesh with more fervor than she perhaps intends, but the feel of their bodies together -- finally -- makes it difficult for Beca to control herself. 

Chloe is drunk on this, their first kiss.  Her head is heavy, knees weak and the sounds Beca is making into her mouth are muffled, as if Chloe is underwater.  The only thing she can hear is the her own breathing and her heart pounding in her ears.

She almost -- but not quite -- feels too intoxicated to kiss back, but her mouth seems to have a mind of its own, moving easily against Beca’s.   And Chloe can’t get enough. 

Lithe fingers weave through chocolate brown tresses, cupping the back of Beca’s head.  Chloe’s other arm wraps around Beca, hand firmly pressed between her shoulder blades to pull her and hold her close as she tilts her head to caress Beca’s tongue at a completely new angle, making them both gasp. 

Beca inhales sharply as their proximity -- leaving no room for even air between them -- and steers Chloe’s thigh into her center, sending a charge clear through her.  Her body tenses, not from fear but in an effort to rein in the desire that’s threatening to spiral out of control. 

She’s come to realize that the very nearness of Chloe, the waft of her sweet scent in the air or the lilt of her laugh somewhere in the distance, is enough to push her to the edge. It makes her want to do things to Chloe’s body, to pleasure her with every part of her being.  She won’t admit to thinking about it nearly constantly since they’ve met, but she has. And she won’t admit to touching herself when she does, but she has. 

It’s almost as if Chloe can read Beca’s mind when she breaks the kiss, panting.  Her chest heaving into the other women’s. “I’ve thought about this with you so many times, Beca,” she says breathlessly.  “I want you so badly it hurts.”

A growl rumbles deep with in Beca, who falls onto the couch, pulling Chloe on to her lap and affixing her mouth to the redhead’s collarbone.  The twinge of teeth against shallow skin and bone is exhilarating. “You feel so good,” she groans as she gently rocks her hips into Beca. She feels a rush of wetness, like someone turning on a faucet, between her legs and at first, maybe she’s a little embarrassed that she’s so aroused -- especially when she knows Beca, who looks up at her and smirks, feels it.  

Chloe stills her movements and drops her head to Beca’s shoulder, playing with the baby curls at the base of her neck.  

“What’s wrong?” asks Beca, tipping Chloe's chin up.

“I can’t help it, Beca.  You have no idea how much you turn me on.” 

Beca reaches between them, twisting her hand to cup Chloe’s pussy.  “I think I have some idea.” She squeezes and Chloe instinctively jerks away for a second before returning to Beca’s lap.

“Oh. Ooohhh!” Chloe gasps out and bites her lip.

“Sensitive?” Beca asks knowingly as she tucks a lock of red behind Chloe’s ear.

She continues to grind into Beca’s lap as Beca slips her hands up under the hem of Chloe’s sweater and around to her lower back, helping to guide her through the motions. “Let me take care of you, Chloe.  I want to make you feel good.”

The feel of Beca’s hands on her skin, roaming all over her back is like static electricity.  “What would it take to get you to do that forever?” 

Before Beca can answer, Chloe's mouth is on her, tongue tracing the curve of her ear, all the way down to the lobe which she gently takes into her mouth to nibble, making Beca wither underneath her.

“Make love to me, Beca.”

Beca is more than ready to give Chloe what she wants. She starts to unbutton Chloe's pants but, given their frantic states and Chloe's even more frantic hips, the buttons aren't cooperating as well as they'd like. 

“I'm going to explode I don't have you inside me now,” says Chloe who is now grinding herself against Beca's stomach.

Beca is paralyzed by the sight of Chloe moving, rubbing herself on her lap and the soft moans that are coming from the redhead.  But the vision before her -- and everything she's hoping will come after, including her and Chloe -- are interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

Their heads both snap up.  

“Who the hell could that be?” 

“Do you think it’s Aubrey and Stacie and the boys?”

“Not if they know what's good for them.”

Beca flies off the couch to the door, leaving Chloe to compose herself for whomever awaits on the other side.

“Hello, Beca.”

“Mr. Irvine,” Beca’s frustration abates when she sees the older, kindly looking gentleman. “ Good to see you.  I came by when I arrived yesterday -- “

Mr. Irvine is the year-round caretaker of Grandma Mitchell's Hamptons estate, coming to check on things at the main house.

“Yes, I apologize.  We celebrated the holiday with my daughter in Poughkeepsie and only got back earlier this afternoon.  I trust you've found everything to your liking?”

“As always.  Thank you for taking such good care of everything.”

“Of course.  Anything for you, Beca  Your grandmother's orders.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Beca reaches behind the door and pulls out two expertly wrapped gifts.  “For you and the missus.”

“Beca, you shouldn't have.”

“I wanted to thank you for your help and for staying on after Grandma Mitchell's passing.”

“It's my pleasure.  I hope you enjoy your stay, and you know where to find me if you need anything at all.”

“Goodnight, Mr Irvine.”

Watching the exchange, Chloe remembers her gift for Beca and she disappears into the bedroom to retrieve it.

When she comes back to the sitting room, Beca is gone.  Chloe turns and is about to make her way back to the bedroom, when a pair of lips are on hers.

Chloe laughs as she kisses Beca back, pushing against her shoulders so that she can give her the gift.

When they break apart, Chloe links their hands and guides them to the couch.  Beca lolls her head back into the cushion, her arm around Chloe. 

“I love the record player, baby.  I can't believe you remembered and coordinated everything with Henry and Oliver.  Thank you.”

“You got my secret message then, I take it?”  Beca winks.

“Very creative of you, sweetheart.” Chloe pecks the tip of Beca’s nose, making her scrunch up her face in response.  “Oh stop it, silly,” she chides, playfully slapping Beca’s thigh before placing the box on the coffee table. 

“What's this?”

“Well, open it and find out.”

Beca slowly and carefully tears the festive paper as Chloe bounces excitedly next to her.  “I hope you like it.”

“If it's from you, I'm sure I will.” Beca leans over to kiss her lips and goes back to carefully removing the paper, knowing she's driving the redhead absolutely crazy (again, but this time in a completely different way).

“Becaaaa,” Chloe whines.  “You're going too slow! Let me just do it.”

Beca whips the gift out of Chloe's reach. “Uh-uh.” But that doesn't stop Chloe from grabbing at it before Beca puts a hand to her chest to still her.  “I think you need to sit on your hands.”

She finally removes all the wrapping with no help from Chloe to find a blue velvet box.  Inside is a pocket watch. It looks worn, but recently buffed to a polish. 

Chloe lifts it out of the box, holding it up for Beca to see.  “It was a gift to my grandfather from my grandmother. It's titanium.”

“It's beautiful, Chloe.” 

“Read the inscription.” 

Beca turns the watch over in her hand and reads:  _ Time after time, I choose you. Love, C. _

She kisses Chloe deeply.  “This is -- I don't know what to say except --” She kisses Chloe again, making the redhead giggle.

“So, you like it, I take it.”

“I love it.  I love you.”

The words flow from her mouth easily, naturally.  But they hit Chloe like a freight train.

“Beca,” she whispers in awe, running a hand through Beca’s hair.  

It's only then that Beca realizes what she's said, and while it is how she feels, she didn't intend to tell Chloe so soon.  Part of her feels silly, falling in love with someone so quickly, but when that someone is Chloe Beale, you don't think twice.

“Beca,” Chloe starting again, the name falling from her lips reverently.  “Did you mean that?”

“Yes,” Beca whimpers out, still a little embarrassed at her admission. But then she finds her voice.  “Yes, I meant it. I’m in love with you, Chloe. I think I have been since our first dance. I will never forget the way you rested your head on my shoulder.  You felt...you feel like home to me. And I do love you.”

Chloe pounces on Beca, knocking her flat on her back onto the couch and landing on top of her.  “I love you too, you know? So much.”

“Yeah?”  Beca slips her hands up under the hem of Chloe’s sweater and wraps them around her slender waist, pulling her closer. 

“All this time, I felt so silly falling for someone I barely knew, but I couldn’t help it.”  Beca’s hands roam over and across the sinews of Chloe’s back, generating a comfortable, relaxing heat against her soft skin.  “I’m just glad you feel the same.” 

“I never want you to feel silly, Chloe.  All you should ever feel is loved.”

XxxX

Beca awakes slowly the next morning with a willowy arm draped across her chest and a firm leg hooked over her hip.  She smiles to herself and strokes the soft, fair skin with her fingertips, marveling at the abundance of freckles sprinkled like cinnamon across Chloe’s face, her chest, shoulders and arms. 

Chloe shifts, pressing further into Beca who just lies there, enjoying the way their bodies seem made to fit perfectly together.  It’s then that Beca feels tender kisses on her shoulder and she smiles at the way Chloe looks up at her with still-sleepy, but still-mesmerizing blue eyes. 

“Not a bad way to wake up,” Chloe says. Her voice has a sexy morning rasp. 

Beca opens her mouth and from out of nowhere, she almost tells Chloe that they shouldn’t get used to this.  That in a mere two weeks, she’ll be back in London for the next five months. But the morning is beautiful.  Chloe is beautiful. And why ruin a good thing, she thinks. Better to just live in the moment and burn into her brain the way Chloe feels wrapped around  her. Instead of saying anything at all, Beca holds Chloe tighter to her and simply squeezes.

They lie in bed for the next few hours, bathed in sunlight, losing and finding each other again in teasing touches and slow, lazy kisses.  

Beca’s been in love with Chloe -- all of Chloe -- since the first moment she saw her across the dance floor at the Posens.  Before Chloe even knew Beca existed. And she loves all of Chloe, but it’s on this morning that she falls in love with Chloe’s body, memorizing how her muscles flex when she stretches, how they twitch when Beca runs a hand across them.  Chloe is feminine and strong all at once -- a juxtaposition that’s entirely new to Beca. Women she’s been with in the past, and there haven’t been many, have either been dainty and frail or thick and too, well, manly. Beca thinks...no, she knows...Chloe is the sexiest combination she could have ever imagined. 

Chloe spends the morning watching and learning Beca -- a woman of few words, who instead communicate volumes with playful smirks and loving touches.  She’s never been with someone who is so gentle and chivalrous. Her prior girlfriends, of which there were only two worth mentioning, were somewhat rough and domineering.  Beca makes Chloe feel cared for, but not submissive; loved but not indebted to that love. 

To an outsider, it looks like they’re wasting time lazing about, but to Beca and Chloe, it’s precious time spent getting to know each other.  It’s what most other couples get to do when they’re on dates together, but romantic public outings aren’t really an option, so they‘re forced to make the most of moments like these.  It’s why Aubrey and Stacie suggested they have these days alone. It’s not much, but it’s more than they would have back in the city under familiar eyes and loose lips of their high society circles. 

XxxX

When they finally manage to peel themselves out of bed, it’s already early afternoon.  There’s very little to be done to prepare for their friends’ arrival the next day, and Chloe’s never seen the beach up close, so they decide to bundle up in warm, woollen sweaters and venture out. 

It’s not a warm day by any stretch of the imagination -- they are on the back end of a storm that dumped nearly a foot of snow further inland -- but the sun is out, the sky is clear, the wind is calm and Chloe is radiant as she stands just beyond the water line inhaling the cold, salty air. 

Without turning, she beckons Beca.  “Why are you way back there?” 

When Beca can think of no good reason, she closes the distance between them and sneaks her bare hand into Chloe’s mitten. 

They walk for a while in silence, enjoying each other,  until Chloe speaks and the question feels like a wave breaking right on Beca’s back.  “What’s going to happen to us when you go back to London?” 

It’s the question Beca has been dreading answering -- for Chloe and for herself.  She’s thought about how she would respond to the question if it ever came up. Now, here it is, and Beca suddenly can’t breathe.

“I, uh...well...I…” She runs a hand through her hair and exhales, frustrated that she can’t find the words.  Then again, she isn’t sure what she should say, in the first place, especially with Chloe staring at her so intently.   She wants to tell Chloe in no uncertain terms that the hours they just spent hours in bed, learning each other, trading soft kisses were not in in vain.  That no matter the distance between them, she will always recall the way Chloe’s hands felt on her skin, fingers trailing up, down and across her back in no discernable pattern or purpose other than making Beca feel good.  

Beca takes a deep breath, “Chloe, I --” but she’s too slow.  

“It’s OK, Beca.  You don’t have to say anything.”  Chloe is confounded. Disappointed.  In herself as much as in Beca. She’s always prided herself on being good at reading people, and she thought Beca really liked her -- loved her, even.  At least that’s what she said last night. And for her part, Chloe is incredibly, insanely attracted to Beca -- to the point that she can’t physically tear herself away.  She just wants to be near Beca, preferably touching Beca, at all times. The connection she feels is undeniable. If she believed in past lives, she might think they were already a couple in another time and place; that’s how immediate and intense the closeness and comfort is between them, which makes it hard to understand why Beca seems to be suddenly an inexplicably backtracking. 

The thought fuels the tears in her eyes that spill over as she feels the fire inside her starting to die.  She wrests her hand from Beca and turns to walk back towards the house. It’s then she feels Beca grab her wrist and launch herself into the redhead’s back, flinging her arms over Chloe’s shoulders -- an attempt to hold her in place.

“Chloe! No!  Stop. Stop. Please. Just...just stop.”   She spins Chloe so that they are face to face.  Beca was hoping to find some trace of hope or optimism on her face, but she’s met only with tears and a quivering chin.  “Chloe, I...I, um,” Beca scratches the back of her neck, dropping her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at the sad, shivering woman before her.  “I’m sorry…”

Chloe lets out a sob that she can’t control and Beca realizes she’s running out of time to make it right  “Please, don’t, don’t cry. I want to be with you so badly. I meant what I said. I do love you. I'm  _ in  _ love with you, but I--I was worried, I guess, that maybe you wouldn’t want to be committed to someone who couldn’t be with you.  Hell, who isn’t even in the same time zone as you. That maybe you thought this was all just...for fun.” 

“Fun?  Beca, were you on the couch last night?”  

Beca nods, not quite what sure what Chloe’s getting at. 

“Were you in bed this morning?” 

“Um, yeah.  Yes.” 

“Then I think you know that I am in this.  With you. Until you won’t have me any more.  This isn’t just for fun or to get back at my parents.  I meant it when I said I love you too. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. I want us to be together no matter what.” 

“No matter what?” 

“Let me put it this way.  You are standing in the path of a speeding locomotive, Beca Mitchell.  I’m unstoppable when it comes to getting what I want. And I want you.” 

Beca’s cold hands frame Chloe’s cold face, neither doing much to warm the other up.  “Me too, Chloe. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” 

Chloe brings her hands up to cover Beca’s and pecks her lips.  “But you did say it. Eventually.” 

“And as for London,” Beca slides her hands out from under Chloe’s and pulls the woman closer by the collar of her coat. “I have actually thought about it.  A lot. “ Chloe can feel Beca’s warm breath on her face. “I’m not going to say it will be easy, but I think we can make it work.” Beca mirrors the smile forming on Chloe’s face. “I’ll be back for good in June.  Five months, in time for Aubrey and Oliver’s -- “

“Wait.” 

“What?” 

“Five months?” 

“Yes.  I know it feels like a long time, but --” 

“No.  I mean...I mean, yes, it does.  But Aubrey and Stacie said you wouldn’t finish in London until next fall.” 

Beca watches her boots as they make patterns across the sand. “They’re not wrong.  Or at least they weren’t wrong, but then I met you and, uh, things changed.” 

“Oh, Beca.  You didn’t.”  Chloe wraps her arms around Beca and watches the waves over her shoulder, unsure about whether she should feel flattered at Beca’s selfless gesture or guilty that she’s flattered.

Then she feels Beca chuckle against her and, out of curiosity, pulls her head back to look at her.  “It was actually very good timing. My mentor is returning to New York, and I decided I had a really good, redheaded reason to follow him so that I could finish studying under him.  Once I’m done, there’s probably a position for me at the Met or Lincoln Center, composing new works. It just all seemed to make sense.” 

“Beca, that’s...that’s...I’m so proud of you!”  Chloe pulls her back into a huge hug. “When were you going to tell me?” 

“Well, it’s not final yet.  I have to work out all the details when I get back to London in a few weeks, but that’s the plan.”

“And you’re OK not being in London?” 

“I just want to be where you are, Chloe.”

Chloe kisses Beca’s cheek.  “RIght now, I want to be somewhere warm.” 

“Let’s go.” 

XxxX

Chloe is laying on the floor among a sea of pillows, warming her feet by a roaring fire that Beca built.   

She’s lost track of where the other woman got to in the expansive house, but for the moment, Chloe’s too comfortable to move.  It’s not until she hears the sounds of a piano that she’s on her feet, searching for the source. She finds it -- finally -- in a large sun room that’s now lit only with a lamp over the piano and a few candles scattered about.

Beca is hunched over the keyboard, alternating between pecking at a few notes and jotting something down on a piece of paper. 

As Chloe gets closer, she can hear Beca humming.   Chloe quickly picks up on the tune and starts to hum in a higher key, making Beca’s head snap around. 

“Chloe!”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know where you were and then I heard the piano so I followed the sound.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Beca smiles and reaches out her arms.  “You didn’t. Come here.” 

Chloe walks over to the piano bench, but before she can sit, Beca pulls her on to her lap.   “I didn’t mean to disappear,” she gives Chloe a sweet kiss on the lips. “I just, I had the music in my head and I had to write it down before I lost it completely.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play. It’s lovely.  I mean, what little I heard of it.” 

Beca blushes and Chloe ducks her head to kiss her.  

“You’re lovely, too, Chloe,” says Beca when they part.  

“So,” Chloe asks, plunking a few keys, “are you done here?”

“I could be.” Beca rubs a hand over the small of Chloe’s back.   

“Care to join me in front of the fire?  I think I saw some good bourbon somewhere around here.” 

“I can’t think of anything better.  Lead the way.” 

Chloe slides off Beca’s lap and extends a hand, only to have Beca pull her back to turn off the piano light. 

“I’ll get the candles and meet you in the kitchen,” offers Beca.   She blows out all but one in a large glass jar, carrying it with her down the hallway and to the kitchen where Chloe is pulling a bottle of Johnnie Walker from the liquor cabinet.   

She turns when she sees the flickering shadow against the wall.    
Beca shrugs. “Ambiance.”

“Romantic.” 

Beca takes a step closer to Chloe and kisses her soundly. “That’s the idea,” she says, winking. 

Chloe follows Beca back to the main area of the house and they settle in front of the fire, taking turns swigging from the bottle, talking and laughing.

The glow from the fire catches Chloe’s features at just the right angle, just as she’s giggling, and Beca thinks she might explode.  She just can’t help the warmth that is spreading through her. It’s not the alcohol or the flame, of that she’s certain. It’s pure Chloe.  Everything about her is everything Beca wanted. When she didn’t find it in New York, she fled to London. Sure, she’d tell people she left for the music -- to study at the London Conservatory -- and that was certainly a big part of it, but the reality was that Beca was lonely, unimpressed with the women she met in New York.  She’d hoped that those overseas would be more sophisticated, but she found them too uppity and particular. Ironic then that she’d come back to New York only temporarily, to find the very woman she wanted to be with permanently. 

She doesn’t know who leans in first.  All she knows is Chloe has this overwhelming amount of love in her eyes that is mesmerizing.  She feels hypnotized when she tucks a red tress behind Chloe’s ear, and the next thing she knows, she’s cupping the back of her head and pulling her into a kiss that sends them both to the floor, Beca enjoying the press of Chloe’s body on top of her.  

Her hands slide up to Chloe’s bra and Chloe pulls back to give Beca a subtle nod of approval.  In one smooth motion, Chloe whips the sweater off over her head and lets her now unhooked (thanks to Beca) bra drop between them.   Beca watches Chloe for a moment, taking in the gorgeous woman in front of her with the flushed cheeks and chest and a mischievous glint in her eyes that makes Beca want to at once melt and do dirty things to Chloe.  She marvels at how Chloe is able to pull these opposite feelings from her, but Chloe's warm hands inching up under her shirt and over her skin snaps Beca back to reality, back to the mission at hand.  Beca reaches up and rubs her palms over Chloe’s nipples.  Chloe lets her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth to silence the moan that wants to escape, but she can't halt the gentle rock of her hips against Beca's.  It's a reaction that only intensifies when she clasps her hands over the brunette's, palming her own breasts and squeezing.   

Chloe lowers herself on to the body beneath her, brushing her nipple over Beca's lips, but barely giving her a chance to envelope it with her whole mouth and flick it with her tongue before Chloe attacks her neck, sending them both into a fit of laughter -- one that’s abruptly cut short by a loud bang outside, followed by voices and then a key in the lock. 

Chloe jumps up, scrambling to put on her top when the door opens. 

“Stacie! Aubrey! What are you doing here?”  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter with a tiny bit of Staubrey angst. And, in case you're keeping track, Beca and Chloe still haven't had sex yet. When will the wait be over????????

Stacie and Aubrey stand in the doorway, covered in a fine dusting of snow.  From behind them, Henry and Oliver, who are lugging suitcases, appear. All four girls rush to their aid, helping them into the house.  

When they’re all inside and have divested their winter-wear, Stacie looks around smirking.  “So sorry to interrupt your night, ladies.” 

Beca looks somewhat annoyed, but Chloe laughs, wrapping a calming arm around Beca’s waist.  “You didn’t interrupt. Now, had you gotten here 15 minutes later, I can’t say what you might have walked in on.”

“15 minutes?  Really, Chloe? More like --” 

“No, thank you.  I don’t need to know,” says Aubrey, who holds up a hand, which is effective in preventing Beca from saying they were a lot closer to having sex than Chloe is letting them believe.. 

“Glad we got here when we did then,” says Oliver.  

“Speak for yourself,” said Stacie. “Look how adorable they are together.” 

“Thanks,” says Beca dryly as Chloe hip checks her, giggling.  “Not that we’re not happy to see you, but we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow morning.” 

“Haven’t you heard, Beca?”  chides Aubrey.

“Apparently not.” 

“There’s another storm that’s supposed to hit tomorrow.  I doubt it will be bad along the coast, but inland, they’re predicting several more inches.” 

“We figured if we didn’t get out of the city tonight, we wouldn’t make it here,” said Oliver. 

“And we didn’t think we could leave you two here unsupervised for much longer,” said Henry.  He turns to Chloe, kissing her on the head. “Hello, wife.”

“What Beca means to say is that we’re thrilled you’re here safely,” says Chloe, ever the diplomat, but groaning on the inside that she now has to share this house and Beca with their friends.  Their lovely, lovely friends. Who have absolutely horrific timing. 

XxxX

Mr. Irvine and his wife have seen to it that the fridge and freezer are stocked with plenty of food and drink and all the beds are made up, with fresh towels in all the bathrooms. 

Beca and Chloe show the ladies and the gents to their respective bedrooms and everyone changes into more comfortable attire before regrouping near the fire around a plate of cheeses and crackers that Beca’s plucked from the fridge.   

Henry’s the last to join them.  When he does, he’s wielding a large canvas sack, which he promptly unpacks on the kitchen counter.  They’re all eyeing him intently. 

“Henry, there’s six of us.  Just how much do you expect us to drink over the next two days?” asks Aubrey when she sees all of the bottles -- some filled with amber-colored liquid; others with clear.  

“He was a Boy Scout,” says Oliver, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at Henry.  “Always be prepared.”

“What about actual food, Henry?”  asks Chloe, laughing, only to be silenced when Henry holds up another, even larger bag, with several packages of spaghetti, fresh tomatoes a few loaves of bread, olive oil and other ingredients to make a huge pasta feast.

“I’m making New Year’s Eve dinner," he says proudly.  

“He’s been planning the menu for days,” says Oliver.  

“And the menu goes on for days as well,” affirms Aubrey. “So you’d do yourselves all a favor to make this your last meal until then.”

XxxX

When Dec. 31 arrives, Henry spends the entire day cooking, while the rest of the group lounges about and plays games.  Oliver introduces them to two new board games -- Scrabble and The Jury Box, which holds their interest, but only until Stacie beats them for about the 6th time.  After that, they move on to Charades, which Chloe and Beca win easily. When it’s time for lunch, Oliver convinces Henry to tear himself away from the stove and walk with them to the nearby deli.  On the way, they launch into a huge snowball fight -- one that has Chloe’s sweet giggle echoing down the empty street. 

As Beca stops to listen and take it all in, she’s met with the ‘poof’ of a snowball hitting the side of her head and then a body knocking her to the ground. “Snow angels,” yells Chloe.  “C’mon Beca!” she says as she starts to move her arms and legs, but Beca just watches her. “Beca,” she continues, “My angel is lonely!”

Beca can’t help but chuckle at how excited Chloe is and soon joins her, remembering that  Chloe, hailing from Atlanta, never had much opportunity to see snow, let alone play in it. 

When they finally get back to the house, they make a batch of hot toddies and sit by the fire, mostly quiet, eyelids drooping from the alcohol and from trudging through the snow like children.  

Suddenly, Aubrey breaks the silence.  “I have a favor to ask.” 

“Sure, Aubrey.  What is it?” Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder. 

“Well, I would like all you girls to be in my,” she glances up at Oliver, “I mean,  _ our  _ wedding.” 

“Henry here is going to be the best man,” Oliver says, dropping a hand to Henry’s shoulder.  “So, Chloe, don't go getting all jealous that he's escorting Stacie.”

“Aubrey, you want me to be your maid of honor?” Beca can’t help but notice that Stacie has paled considerably and withdrawn from the conversation.

“Of course.  What do you say?”  Aubrey looks expectantly at Chloe, Stacie and Beca.  

“I’m in!” says Chloe.  “Of course. Anything for you, Aubrey.”

Beca crinkles her nose at the suggestion, but Aubrey reminds her that when they played “brides” as kids, Aubrey was always her bridesmaid. 

“Yes, but we’re not eight anymore, Aubrey.   And if we’re using that logic, you still owe me a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers and ice cream sodas from the pharmacy you’d always pretend to own.”

“I’m sure I can deliver on that once we get back to the city.  So...?”

Both Aubrey and Chloe watch Beca intently for any sign that she’s ready to crack.  The redhead sees it first -- the small smirk that creeps across Beca’s face -- and she pounces, peppering kisses all over her face. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?” asks Aubrey.

Beca’s laughing and trying to duck Chloe’s continued kissing. “Yes, of course, Aubrey.  I’d be honored.” 

“You were going to do it the whole time, weren’t you?” Chloe says with certainty. 

“You’ll never know,” Beca challenges.  

“But I have my ways of finding out.”  Chloe wiggles her eyebrows, making Beca blush.

Now that Chloe and Beca have said yes, all eyes are on a  panicked Stacie, who quickly stands. “Aubrey, I - “ The flood of tears in her eyes prevents her from saying anymore. 

Oliver nudges Aubrey up off the pile of pillows and gestures for her to comfort her girlfriend, but Henry is already taking Stacie's hand to pull her up, turning to the group, “Let me. I think I can relate.”  He winks at Oliver, who smiles warmly back at him, before tugging at Stacie’s hand. 

He leads her into the sun room and leans against the piano, watching her pace, thumbing at the stray tears that continue to escape.

“How are you able to do this, Henry?  Stand up there and watch him put a ring on her finger? Say ‘I do’?”

He pulls Stacie down to sit next to him on the piano bench.

“It’s a lavender marriage, Stacie.  A marriage of convenience. It means nothing.  He loves me. She loves you. So much.”

Stacie smiles, but it soon fades.  “Then why do it?”

“Oh, sweetie.  I wish we all had parents who were as free and open as yours.  You’re lucky, you know that right? Our parents think marriage is the end all-be all. They don't see any other option.  This is the natural order. What has to happen. Anything else is problematic.”

Stacie looks at him, puzzled.

“Well, for them of course. It's all a reflection on them.  How their friends see them. How society sees them. Whether they're living up to the family name.”

“Are you saying Aubrey and Oliver care more about giving their parents what they want than making themselves and us happy?”

“No,  not at all.  I’m saying it’s a means to an end.” Henry runs his hand through his hair.  “Look, I don't pretend to know Aubrey as well as you do, but the way I think about it is that the people you and I love most in this world are willing to go to the greatest lengths -- planning and participating in a completely sham wedding -- so that they can get their parents off their backs and actually focus who they  _ want  _ to be with.  Not who they _ should _ be with because of some sort of dumb social conventions.”

He sighs and watches Stacie for a moment, before continuing.  “I’m no Dorothy Dix, but does that help at all? You can say no, I won’t be offended.”  

Stacie nods and stretches up to kiss him.  “Oliver’s lucky to have you. Thank you.”

He smiles and leaves Stacie to her thoughts.  But before long she's making her way back to the group in the living room.

Aubrey jumps up when she sees Stacie, but looks unsure about how or even whether to approach her.  Thankfully, it's Stacie who breaks the ice.

She walks over to cup Aubrey's face in her hands and look her in the eye.  “I love you. And if you are willing to fake a marriage for me -- for us -- the very least I can do is stand up there and pretend right along with you.”

Aubrey brings her hands up to cover Stacie’s, letting out a wet half-sob, half-laugh.  “So,” she asks cautiously. “Is that a yes, Miss Conrad?”

Stacie only kisses her soundly.

“Hm, well, since you seem so agreeable tonight, what if...” Aubrey nudges Oliver, who reaches into his pocket before dropping his fisted hand into his faux-bride’s.  “...I asked you to marry me?” Aubrey opens her hand to reveal a huge cushion cut diamond. 

Stacie gasps and this time it's her turn to let out a sob as she lets Aubrey put the ring on her finger.

“I thought we could sneak away and have our little ceremony after Oliver and I pretend to get married.”

“So romantic, Aubrey,” Oliver snickers.

Stacie is still speechless.

“I don't think I've ever seen her this way,” says Beca, leaning in to a teary Chloe.

“Stacie?” Aubrey runs a hand through dark waves. “Sweetheart?  Say something. Anything.”

Stacie pulls Aubrey to her feet and, without a word, leads her upstairs, closing the bedroom door.

“I guess we'll fetch them for dinner then?” says Chloe, smiling.

Henry catches Oliver's eye.  “I don't know what you said to Stacie, but it worked.”

“And then some,” laughs Henry, looking in the direction of their closed bedroom door.

“Well, I don't want to hear any of, ugh, that,” Beca gestures to Aubrey and Stacie’s room.  “So I’m going to put on some music.”

Beca won't admit it, but she's jealous.  She aches to be that close to Chloe. To be the one making her make those noises behind a closed door.  Or anywhere really. But everytime they try, fate intervenes, and Beca has to push away the idea that keeps pervading her thoughts:  First there was the misunderstanding over their relationship once Beca returns to London. Then Mr. Irvine. Now this. Maybe she and Chloe just weren't meant to be.

As Beca gets up to thumb through the vast record collection, Chloe misses the nearness of her.  Watching her, Beca seems a bit...off. She worries that there's still something unsaid between them, which only fuels her need to get Beca alone.  To talk, yes. But she also needs Beca. Badly. Needs to feel her. And now that their friends are here, she worries the chances to be with Beca are slipping through her fingers.

With that, Beca is slipping through her fingers, tangling their hands together.  Her other hand pressing firmly against Chloe’s back, warm from where she was sitting against the sofa.  “How Deep Is the Ocean” is playing, and they’re dancing cheek to cheek. Slowly. Beca determined to hold on to Chloe until something bigger, stronger than Mr. Irvine’s knocking or their crazy, drunk friends pull them apart.

Beca starts to sing softly in Chloe's ear, surprised when the redhead joins in and relishing how good they sound together:

_ How much do I love you? _ __  
_ I'll tell you no lie _ __  
_ How deep is the ocean? _ _  
_ __ How high is the sky?

With Chloe pressed up against her, her warm breath in her ear, Beca lets all the worry fall away.  She lets herself fall even more in love in that moment. And Chloe? Chloe couldn't stop even if she tried.

XxxX

Stacie and Aubrey emerge from the bedroom right before dinner is served, ready for a fancy evening.  The only hint that any shenanigans went on behind closed-doors is a light purple blemish, cleverly disguised, but not completely covered, on Aubrey’s collarbone.

Henry and Oliver descend the stairs in tuxes, and Chloe immediately zeros in on Henry’s crooked bowtie. “Henry, why aren’t your ties ever straight?” she fusses, trying to fix it.

“Why should they be?  Nothing else about him is,” Oliver says, handing Henry Chloe’s drink to hold until she’s finished.  His comment draws chuckles from the group. 

“What’s so funny?” Beca asks, causing everyone to turn.  She’s also dressed in a tux -- a white one, with tails and a more feminine, fitted cut.   Her face falls when she sees Chloe smiling up at Henry, her hand still at his neck, adjusting his tie.  

But the sight of Beca is enough for Chloe to drop everything and rush to her.  “Beca, you look…” Chloe can’t and won’t finish her thought at the risk of embarrassing herself and Beca.  Instead, she drapes her arms around Beca’s neck, knowing that the other girl will automatically, instinctively grip her hips to pull their bodies flush.  With that, Chloe’s able to whisper in her ear, but Beca beats her to it, hoping the seduction in her voice will mask the jealousy and possessiveness that is pinging in her chest.  “I love this dress on you...” Chloe can feel Beca’s hands roaming across her bare back and tension shoots through her. “...but if I’m being honest, I’m not going to feel bad when I rip it off you later tonight.”  

She can feel more than hear the soft, subtle moan in Chloe’s exhale and she smirks.  “Assuming we make it that long.” 

The heat of Beca’s hands, the way her fingers lightly tickle her back and the sensation of Beca’s lips on the shell of her ear are overwhelming Chloe like a tidal wave.  “Beca…” she whimpers, hoping something, anything Beca does will sober her up, even though she’s not at all drunk. 

Before Beca can respond, Henry is gathering them all into the dining room -- a huge spread laid out before them.  “I’m for certain going to need a nap after all this food, Henry,” says Stacie. 

“Are you sure the food’s to blame, Stacie, and not perhaps your, uh, activities over the last…” Beca checks her pocket watch, her gift from Chloe “...three hours?”  

Chloe silences Beca with a kiss as Beca fends off Stacie’s playful swats. 

Oliver, ignoring all of their antics, pops the cork on a bottle of wine and begins filling glasses.  “Tomorrow’s for napping. Tonight is for celebrating!” 

XxxX

The speakeasy a few blocks away, where they’ll countdown to 1933 is packed, with jubilant people spilling out onto the street, but Beca knows the owner and greets him by name.  “Happy New Year, Charlie.” 

“Beca!  Beca’s friends!  Happy New Year! I have your regular table, Beca, with two bottles of champagne that have been chilling since this afternoon.   Enjoy, huh?”

Like an oasis in the desert, a table surrounded by party-goers stands completely empty, just awaiting their arrival.  

Beca places a hand on Chloe’s lower back to lead her to the table, only to find Henry’s already occupying the space.   

When Henry feels the sensation of another hand on his, he leans back slightly to find Beca on Chloe’s other side.  He tries to smile, but Beca wrenches his arm away from Chloe’s body. 

Sensing the commotion behind her, Chloe turns to see the ire literally rising in Beca’s face and turning redder by the second.  Henry on the other hand looks completely helpless and Chloe’s simply caught in the middle, unsure who she should attend to first.  

Ever-observant Aubrey steps forward to intervene, but Chloe raises a hand as if to tell her to stand down.  She grabs Beca with one hand and Henry with the other and drags them both to the back of the bar, not caring who’s in her path. 

Aubrey, Stacie and Oliver can do little else but watch her blaze a trail away from their table until they lose sight of the trio.  

“I hope Henry’s OK,” frets Oliver.  “He’s not very good in a physical fight.”

“Who said anything about a fight?  They’re not barbarians, Oliver. I’m sure they’re just going to talk,” says Aubrey.  

“Well, if I know Chloe at all, she’s going to talk and they’re going to listen,” Stacie chimes in. 

And Stacie’s right.   

Chloe stops walking near a back entrance and unceremoniously drops Beca and Henry’s hands.  “Listen you two, I’m not going to be put in the middle of this, especially not tonight when I want to enjoy myself.  Beca, I saw the way you looked tonight when I was fixing Henry’s tie, but I only have eyes for you. And Henry here only has eyes for Oliver, right?”  Henry nods. “He was just being gentlemanly.  Nothing else.  We need to make it look like we’re in love. Convincingly so. We have to be close. We have to touch and kiss if this is going to work.” 

Henry starts to speak, but Chloe clamps a hand over his mouth as she continues, gesturing between the two of them.  “He and I are nothing more than friends. Friends who are doing each other -- and you,” she locks eyes with Beca, “a huge favor.  You on the other hand are everything to me. Don’t forget that amid any of this,” she gestures toward Henry.

Beca nods and turns to apologize to Henry, but he speaks first.  “Beca, I’ll tell you exactly what I told Stacie this afternoon. I don’t want to take Chloe away from you.  If anything, I want to make it possible for you to be with her. Just like she’s making it so that I can have a life with Oliver.  This is all pretend. It means nothing. She loves  _ you _ . Worships  _ you _ .  And I’m kind of sweet on the fellow back there.”  He jerks a thumb back in the direction of their table.  “But I am sorry if I get a little carried away sometimes.  If it makes you feel any better, Oliver doesn’t like it either.

With that, he takes Beca’s hands, squeezes them and places them on Chloe’s shoulders.  “Are we OK?” 

Beca nods.  “Thanks, Henry. Sorry. I just --” 

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles and waggles his fingers as he walks back toward the table, calling over his shoulder, “What happens now is up to you two.” 

Chloe laughs and cups Beca’s face in her hands.  “Only you, Beca.” 

“Only you, Chloe.” 

XxxX

10...9...8…

The countdown to the New Year begins.  Champagne glasses are full, silly hats sit atop heads and everyone is happy and laughing. 

7...6...5…

Chloe is faintly aware that they’ve all but abandoned Aubrey and Stacie, Henry and Oliver for the ladies’ parlor.  Somewhere in the back of her head, she thinks it’s probably rude of them, but the things Beca is doing to her make it hard to care.  

The only thing she can focus on is Beca. 

Beca who has a hand on her knee that is slowly pushing past the hem of her dress  Beca, whose touch feels like liquid magma and yet is leaving in its wake a minefield of goosebumps.  Beca, whose lips are attached to Chloe’s decolletage, hungry to taste the tight skin there. 

Chloe’s efforts to push her away only serve to hold her closer as she tries -- and fails -- to catch her breath.  Beca’s mouth on her feels so goddamn good. It really should be the 8th deadly sin. 

4...3...2…

“Bec...Beca…”  Chloe can only rasp out the name, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the jubilant, drunken din.  

She doesn’t know what Beca is doing to her with her tongue.  With her teeth. Even the brush of her nose against Chloe’s chest or cheek or down her neck is enough to drop her to her knees, but whatever it is, she doesn’t want it to stop. She doesn’t care when the clock strikes midnight, when the speakeasy erupts with cheers of “Happy New Year!” or when crowd starts to sing  _ Auld Lang Syne.  _  She only cares that Beca’s tongue is now slowly licking up her neck into her ear to whisper “I love you, Chlo”  -- that nickname! it’s the first time Beca’s ever used it and it makes Chloe’s stomach bottom out -- and she wants every New Year from here on out to start this way....


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!!!

_ Chloe only cares that Beca’s tongue is now slowly licking up her neck into her ear to whisper “I love you, Chlo”  -- that nickname! it’s the first time Beca’s ever used it and it makes Chloe’s stomach bottom out -- and she wants every New Year from here on out to start this way.... _

====

Strike that.   _ This  _ is the way Chloe wants to start every New Year from here on out:  her legs wrapped tightly around a very naked Beca, who is pussy to pussy with her, fucking her.  Hard. 

_ The group pours themselves back to the beach house at around 3 a.m., sloppy drunk, holding one another steady through the front door before wishing each other good night and pairing off to their respective bedrooms.  _

_ Beca is turning off lights throughout the house and smothering the fire in the fireplace when she hears Chloe calling for her.  She arrives at their room and finds the door slightly ajar, a column of light from the hallway illuminating a path to the bed. Once she steps inside, she sees Chloe, sitting on the edge of the mattress.  She’s taken her shoes off and her hair down, but is still in her party dress. “Could you help me with the zipper?” she asks as she stands in front of Beca. _

_ Beca steps closer, admiring the way the blue dress cradles her form -- her sloping freckled shoulders, the curve of her feminine hips and her full, firm breasts that threaten to spill out of the garment. _

_ She places her hands on Chloe’s waist and slowly slides them up her sides, over her arms, up to her biceps, never taking her eyes off the woman in front of her. Chloe watches her intently, tucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. _

_ “That's my job,” Beca says quietly, bringing her thumb up to gently free Chloe’s plump lip before tenderly sinking her teeth into soft flesh, tugging at it.  _

_ Chloe chases Beca’s mouth for another kiss as Beca reaches her arms behind the red head to unzip the dress.  Her fingers glide down Chloe's back, trailing the dress as it falls to the floor. It’s then that she steps back, inhaling sharply at the sight before her.  _

_ “You are...there are no words,” Beca whispers against Chloe’s cheek. She wants to sound stronger and bolder, but Chloe’s wearing nothing but a tea green silk chemise that ends high on her thigh.  It’s demure and feminine, but sexy and coy at the same time, and it’s making Beca forget to breathe. The same could be said for Chloe’s nipples, which are evident -- very evident -- through the silk, either because of the cold or because of arousal, Beca’s not sure, but she likes it.  She smirks and flexes her fingers, reaching out to touch the lace across Chloe’s chest and then slide her hand up under the hem at her waist, feeling smooth, soft skin.  _

_ She nudges Chloe a little closer, her lips finding the curve of Chloe’s shoulder.  They part slightly to let her tongue taste the skin there. It seems like such a small, insignificant thing in the moment, but the gentleness of it, the tenderness, reverberates inside Chloe’s chest like the crash of cymbals. She knows she will always remember that Beca initiated their first time together with a kiss...to the shoulder.  Anyone else would have expectantly kissed her lips, traced them with their tongue to request entrance, and licked into her mouth -- as if they were mindlessly following some antiquated rule book about love-making. But leave it to Beca to show her love in decidedly different way.  _

_ She can’t help but smile down at Beca and sigh at the way she is lavishing her with soft, slow kisses from her shoulder into the crook of her neck.  She feels safe in Beca’s arms, which are pulling her closer and closer, millimeter by millimeter. Chloe sweeps her hair to the opposite side to allow Beca to continue kissing across her jaw and under her ear, unencumbered -- light, gentle suction sometimes giving way to nips and bites that reveal just how easily Beca could lose control.  The way they move with each other, their choreography in this dance, is unassuming, instinctual, effortless.  _

_ With Beca’s mouth otherwise occupied, Chloe licks along the shell of her ear, smiling at the goosebumps that flood the other woman’s skin.  She drags her fingers up and down the brunette’s spine, trying to telegraph with her touch the affection she feels, but she’s soon forced to grip Beca’s shoulder to steady herself when a warm hand smooths over the skin of her inner thigh.  _

_ Beca pauses there, waiting for Chloe to halt her movements and push her hand away.  “You’ll tell me if I’m being too forward, but I really can’t help myself.” _

_ “Everything you’re doing is very much wanted, Beca,” Chloe breathes out.  “And you’ll tell me if this is too forward.”  _

_ In one smooth move, Chloe lifts her chemise, revealing a body that is more stunning than Beca could have -- and has, many times if she’s being honest -- imagined.  _

_ The smell of want, of sex, is immediately evident in the air.  Beca grasps the chemise with both hands and helps Chloe pull it over her head, tossing it to the side.  Taking one step closer to Chloe, she lets her nose nuzzle the redhead’s, losing herself in the scent of peaches and citrus that is so distinctly Chloe.   _

_ She backs the woman up to the edge of the bed, wrapping one hand around her back to support her and the other tangling in the hair at the back of her head, guiding her down and placing her gently among the pillows and blankets.   _

_ Chloe is laid out naked before her for the first time ever. Beca kneels on the bed, hovering over her, committing every inch of her to memory:  red hair splayed against the crisp, white sheets; milky skin dotted with thousands of freckles, like the most beautiful Seurat painting, one that  makes Beca want to lie with her for as long as it takes to connect every single dot with the tip of her finger; baby pink nipples that stand up at attention and out against her firm, pale breasts.  They look like those candy buttons dotted on a strip of paper, and Beca longs to nibble at them in much the same way. Her eyes wander further, down to the triangle patch of tight strawberry blonde curls that is nestled between Chloe’s thighs, already damp with arousal, and she can just make out deep red folds that remind her of the inside of a seashell in color and slick, smooth texture. _

_ “So beautiful,” Beca drops to press her head into Chloe’s shoulder as the redhead loving threads her fingers through long, dark tresses.  “I’ve thought so from the moment I saw you on Halloween, and I haven’t been able to think of anything else since.” _

_ Beca lifts her head, studying Chloe’s face.  Chloe thinks that under any other circumstance, she’d probably feel self-conscious and exposed.  But, right now, she just relaxes into the mattress and into Beca’s gaze, one hand draped over her belly; the other over her head, almost as a sign of surrender, as she watches Beca; Beca, who looks at her with the utmost love, respect and admiration. It’s such a new feeling for her; a departure from being ogled and cat-called. With Beca, sex doesn’t feel like just a mere expectation -- that because she’s a woman she should  _ _ want _ _ to have sex or that she owes her partner sex.  With Beca, she’s not an object or a plaything that can be discarded.  She feels three-dimensional, alive, desired. She feels human. She feels loved. _

_ Admittedly, it’s an odd time to consider her parents, but Chloe can’t help but think that if they -- and the world, really -- could see how well Beca loves her and the way she cherishes her, not just in this moment but every moment they’re together, they wouldn’t cling so hard to their social standing or reputation.  Love would be, well…love.  _

_ She closes her eyes and, pushing that thought aside, lets herself get lost in the feeling of Beca’s hands on her thighs, skimming higher and higher, parting her legs to cradle her tiny hips.  _

_ When Chloe’s eyes flutter open, she’s staring right at Beca.  Their foreheads are pressed together -- so close that she can feel the staccato pants of Beca’s breath all across her face as Beca nuzzles her nose into her cheek, across her lips and over her ear, nipping at the fleshy lobe before she drops to her right side, pressing herself against Chloe and gazing down the length of her body, running a hand up smooth legs.  _

_ When Chloe rolls to face her, she realizes Beca’s still fully dressed. _

_ Wanting so badly to remedy that, Chloe draws her arms closer into her own body and brings her hands up between Beca’s shoulders, so that she can undo the buttons on her shirt.  Chloe’s fingers are trembling, not with nerves but with anticipation of finally seeing all of Beca and feeling more of her warm, smooth skin directly on hers.  _

_ Beca’s patient while Chloe plucks at each button. Her fingers draw down Chloe's side, making her shiver. They circle around a nipple as she bides her time, waiting for Chloe.  She’ll always wait for Chloe, she thinks, for as long as it takes. She’s just too good, too perfect to leave behind. That’s when she realizes that London, New York or somewhere in between, she wants Chloe with her.  She’s in love with Chloe. _

_ When Chloe reaches the last button, Beca sits up and shrugs off the shirt.  Chloe follows her to press a strong, sure kiss to her lips as she reaches down and releases the button on her pants.   _

_ Beca shuffles backwards off the bed, planting her feet on the floor so that she can remove the trousers.  She’s fully aware that Chloe’s eyes are on her, hungry, so she doesn’t waste time gripping her shoulders and pushing her back on the mattress. _

_ They fall into a controlled collapse, Beca on top of Chloe, slotting herself in between Chloe’s legs and connecting their hips.  Beca is already turned on, arousal blurring her vision, and she can’t help but moan at the contact; at finally, finally being this close to Chloe.  Their chests heave with anticipation, and Beca shudders when her hard nipples drag across Chloe’s with just the slightest shift of their bodies. _

_ “I’ve thought about this for so long, Chloe.  I want you so badly.”  _

_ “Is it everything you expected?”  _

_ “No.” _

_ Chloe looks away as her face falls a little, but Beca cups her cheek, turning her head so that she see directly into her clear, blue eyes when she promises,“It's so much more.”  _

_ Chloe melts at Beca’s ability to be so sweet and so sensual at the same time.  She surges up on her elbows to kiss her, and doesn’t -- can’t -- wait for her to ask permission to deepen the kiss. Instead, she automatically parts her lips, allowing Beca’s tongue to slip through, hers quickly meeting it.  Their kisses are passionate, unrestrained and even a little sloppy, especially once Beca presses her thigh into Chloe. _

_ “Bec...Beca…” Chloe whines into her mouth as her nails dig into Beca’s back.  She could come. She could let herself come right now on Beca’s thigh -- she's that aroused -- but she wills herself to hold on, she’s done it before, because she doesn’t want this to end.  She doesn’t want Beca to stop. She wants to stay wrapped up with her as long as she possibly can.  _

_ But Beca does stop, pressing herself up to hover over Chloe.  _

_ “Can I touch you?”  _

_ “Please,” Chloe rasps. _

_ Beca lightly trails a finger from Chloe’s lips down her neck, circling her nipple before bending to kiss the stiff tip.  Then she shifts her weight to free her right hand so it can gently tease out the other nipple, marveling at the way it hardens even further under her touch and the skin around it tightens and pebbles.    _

_ Chloe’s breathing speeds up as she arches her back and pushes herself into Beca’s mouth.   She wants to rock her hips to rub against something to alleviate the pressure that’s intensifying between her legs.  Instead, she lets Beca continue to tease her nipples, allowing the sensation to build until it tenses her body and wrenches her off the bed.  Chloe plants her hands behind her on the mattress to support herself. Her hair is mussed, face flushed, but Beca looks up at her and thinks Chloe’s never looked more beautiful. _

_ In one fluid motion, Beca kneels and, with a growl, grips Chloe's ankles and pulls her closer.  Chloe sits up, so she’s astride Beca’s lap, legs wrapped around her, ankles crossed tightly behind her back. _

_ They are locked in a deep kiss, hands caressing cheeks and tangled in hair.  Chloe grasps desperately at any part of Beca she can reach to get her closer and hold her tighter.  She changes the angle of her head, cupping Beca’s cheeks and dipping her tongue further into the other woman’s mouth until her lungs burn with the need for air.  But Chloe needs Beca more. When she does finally pull away, breathless, she finds in Beca’s eyes a silent question that Chloe answers with a subtle nod and a roll of her hips to bring them even closer. _

_ She drops her head to Beca’s shoulder and watches intently as the brunette slides her hand between their bodies, using two fingers to part Chloe’s lips and expose her erect clit.  She looks up at Beca with desperation in her eyes, begging for release, and Beca can’t believe how swollen she is...and how uncomfortable she must be with what amounts to a mini hard-on.  With the pad of her middle finger, she presses into Chloe, feeling how her clit pulses under her touch. The initial contact makes Chloe flinch, letting a soft, very sexy moan escape her lips as she throws her head back, exposing the skin on her neck, which Beca eagerly charges forward to nip. _

_ Chloe spreads her legs further and works her hips fast, pushing Beca’s hand back against her own stomach as she rubs more of her pussy on the brunette’s palm.      _

_ “Oh, god, I want you,” she huffs out in frustration.  _

_ Chloe’s words are like a starting pistol and Beca is off to the races.  One arm reaches across Chloe’s lower back, her hand gripping the opposite hip to support her, while the other starts to rub harder at her pussy. “You have me, Chloe.”  Beca says confidently as she trails her fingers through wet creases, circling her clit, causing Chloe to groan at the contact. She jerks her hips forward, attempting increase the friction on her pussy, but Beca has the opposite response, withdrawing her hand entirely and quirking an eyebrow at Chloe, waiting until she settles before she starts her touches again. _

_ Chloe clings to Beca, turning her head into her neck to muffle her cries. Beca takes a sharp intake of breath as she flashes back to Halloween night, remembering the feel of Chloe’s lips lightly brushing against her as they’re doing now.  _

_ “Chloe…” Beca pants.  _

_ “Inside, Bec.  Please. Fuck me.”  _

_ Beca gently returns Chloe to the mattress, her eyes fluttering closed as Beca places one long, wet kiss on her mouth.  Chloe curls her hand around the back of Beca’s head and starts to kiss her back, but Beca doesn’t stay in one place for too long.  She works her way down Chloe’s body, sucking at the skin on her neck and between her breasts, dipping a tongue in her belly button and licking the wetness streaked across her thighs.  Then suddenly Beca stills, and the lack of contact forces Chloe’s head off the pillow. _

_ She’s propped up on her elbows, ready to ask why Beca stopped, but is rendered speechless when Beca hooks her legs over her shoulders, her head bobbing in between her legs.  _

_ It’s been so long that Chloe’s been this intimate with anyone that she’s almost forgotten how good it feels to have someone lavish this kind of attention on her.  She holds her breath in anticipation and when Beca places a soft kiss on her clit, she exhales with the sweetest, dirtiest sounds. It’s half-moan, half-whimper, and it travels like an electric current through Beca, forcing her to grind her own hips into the mattress.  _

_ Chloe collapses back on to the pillow when Beca takes one long slow lick of her pussy, bathing it with the flat of her tongue, before using the tip to flick at her clit.  At once, her heels dig into the mattress to push away from Beca’s mouth, while her fingers tangle in Beca’s hair, gripping the back of her head to hold her in place.  _

_ “Jesus, Beca.” It comes out as a whispered growl, spurring Beca to repeat the pattern over and over again until Chloe’s breaths are unsteady and she’s writhing underneath Beca.  _

_ Beca uncurls her arms from around Chloe’s thighs, reaching up to pry loose the bed sheet that’s fisted up in Chloe’s hands and interlaces their fingers as she continues to massage Chloe with her tongue. _

_ Chloe wants to melt at the tenderness of Beca taking her hands, but she’s too swept up in trying to get and keep Beca’s mouth where she needs her.  She grinds down into the brunette’s face, as Beca runs her tongue up and down her pussy, even pressing it into her slit. Whenever Beca’s nose or chin brushes against swollen nerves, it causes Chloe’s heels to dig harder into Beca’s back -- a pleasurable sensation for Beca if for no other reason than she knows she’s making Chloe feel good.     _

_ Beca brings their joint hands across Chloe’s abdomen in an attempt to hold her bucking hips in place, but selfishly, she wants Chloe to continue to squirm under her.  The sounds she’s making -- her keening moans and soft coos -- are driving Beca crazy. She could forget music and just get lost in listening to the woman under her forever.  _

_ It’s under the spell of these noises that Beca doesn’t immediately hear Chloe, whining her name, “Bec...Beca...Baby…”  Finally, Chloe grips Beca’s biceps, pulling her up so Beca’s resting fully on top of her, her body supported by her forearms planted on either side of Chloe’s head. _

_ They lock eyes for a moment, Beca searching Chloe’s face for any signs of why she suddenly no longer has her head buried in Chloe’s pussy.  “What’s wrong?” she whispers against Chloe’s lips. “Did I hurt you?”  _

_ Chloe can only shake her head “no” before she brings her hands up to Beca’s face, pulling her down for a kiss that starts at her mouth and ends with Chloe dragging her tongue across Beca’s cheeks, which are streaked with her juices.  “You taste good, hmm?” Beca mumbles. Chloe moans her agreement and, in doing so, parts her lips letting Beca’s tongue find hers. _

_ Still searching for release, Chloe cants her hips up into Beca, who grinds down into her, pinning them back into the mattress.  She can’t believe she has this gorgeous woman on top of her, doing things to her body and her mind that she’s only dreamed about.  Everything from the weight of Beca pressing into to her to her firm touches to the light wisps of breath in her ear has her turned on like never before.  She feels foggy with arousal. Drunk on Beca.  _

_ Admittedly, Beca takes some pleasure in prolonging Chloe’s orgasm, but mostly she loves that Chloe is so open and free with her body, willing to let Beca explore and tease, touch and taste. She’s not quiet, that’s for sure, and Beca is slowly learning how to play Chloe like an instrument -- where to touch her to make her moan.  To make her growl. To make her whimper. To make her giggle.  _

_ “I want to try to something,” Chloe says, almost sheepishly, and Chloe’s sudden lack of self-confidence has Beca raising her eyebrows with curiosity.   She pecks Chloe’s lips as tacit agreement with whatever she’s about to suggest, but Chloe is silent. Instead, she reaches down between them, Beca dropping her head to follow the path of Chloe’s arm.  Her mouth falls open when Chloe’s spreads herself, her erect clit springing forward, sending Beca a clear message about where she wants her. _

_ Beca lowers herself directly on to Chloe’s pussy and begins to rock, thrusting into her.   _

_ S _ he can literally feel Chloe’s clit pulsing on hers, and she knows hers is doing the same.  They’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, despite the chill in the room, as Chloe’s arms wrap around Beca’s trim waist to hold her close and keep up with the punishing rhythm Beca has set.

Beca starts to suckle one of Chloe's breasts, covering as much of it as she can with her mouth.  Her tongue then flicks out to lick it before rolling it back and forth, the sensation making Chloe's toes curl and her back contract as she instinctively pushes more of her breast into Beca's soft mouth.  Then, just as Chloe's starting to adjust to the sensation, the oh-so-pleasurable sting of teeth nipping and scraping against sensitive skin makes her toes curl. 

The friction from every part of Beca's mouth on one nipple and then the other and back again, nearly matches that of their pussies, which is building to unbearable levels that have Chloe writhing in all of the best possible ways.  Every movement, every touch surges through her like a shot of pure adrenaline. She is grateful that Beca seems to instinctively know where and how to drive her crazy. And Chloe finds herself greedily spreading her legs further apart, wrapping Beca tighter to heighten the pressure that's building low in her stomach.  She hasn’t even come yet but she’s not sure that any sex -- perhaps not even with Beca -- will top this, their first time together. 

“I’m close, baby.” 

She reaches up and threads her fingers through Beca’s hair, tendrils that are unkempt and damp with sweat, pulling them back and off her face -- her beautiful face, contorted and on the brink of orgasm.  

“M-me too.  Wait for me?” 

“Uh-uh.”  Chloe reaches around to grip Beca’s ass, encouraging her to grind down harder. 

“God, Chloe,” Beca pants out.  “You are amazing.” She drops her head, burying it in the crook of Chloe’s neck. 

“Worth the wait?” she breathes.

Beca smirks into Chloe’s skin.  “You tell me.” 

Chloe’s eyes slam shut as one of Beca’s more forceful thrusts hits directly on her clit, followed by another.  She feels Beca’s breath in her ear before she hears her, “Come for me, Chlo. Come right on my -- oh, fuck -- on my pussy,” she grunts out, and at those words, Chloe loses what is left of her self-control. 

Her entire body tenses and trembles as her orgasm rockets through her -- a near-constant throbbing that she’s not sure will ever end, which is perfectly fine by her.  

Beca’s not far behind, dropping to Chloe’s side in exhaustion, but continuing to stroke Chloe down from coming, two fingers now gently, almost lovingly, massaging between her legs that are squeezed tightly together.  Chloe’s hips buck one final time in response before she goes limp, curling into Beca. Using the last bit of her strength, she reaches up to hook a finger under Beca’s chin, turning her head slightly so she can look into her eyes.  

But before she can even speak, Beca cuts her off with a kiss, as she tucks a strand of mussed red behind Chloe’s ear.  “I love you, Chlo.” 

Chloe’s only response is to tuck herself into Beca’s neck with a sweet, lazy smile, and Beca thinks that's all she'll ever need.

XxxX

There’s chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen. Beca’s too tired, too sore and too happy to care.  Eyes still sealed shut with drowsiness, she smiles recalling last night and thinks -- no, she knows -- she’s never been more in love with someone. The intimate, private things that happened in this bed in the early hours of 1933 were Beca’s love letter to Chloe -- one that, if she’s lucky, she’ll continue to write until they’re both old and grey. 

Chloe is pressed into Beca’s side, still naked, with an arm thrown across Beca’s chest and a leg hooked over her hip.  Her head is tucked into Beca’s neck, so close that Beca can feel the twitch of her nose and parting of her lips as she starts to wake.

Feeling playful, Beca decides to tease Chloe, kissing down her forearm, contorting so that she can reach the sensitive skin at the bend of her elbow.  She nips at it again and again until Chloe can’t contain her laugh any longer. 

“Oh, did I wake you?” asks Beca feigning innocence. 

Without a word, Chloe tops Beca, straddling her thighs and pinning her arms above her head.  She arches an eyebrow, challenging her.

Instead of backing down, Beca tries flattery as a weapon.  “I think you might have actually gotten more beautiful overnight.”

She says it earnestly, but Chloe can’t but help tease her.  “So, you’re going to try to charm your way out of apologizing for waking me up?” 

“Well, I was being honest, but is it working?” 

A smile stretches across Chloe’s face as she leans forward to get close to Beca, rocking lightly against Beca’s stomach, telegraphing her growing want. 

She captures Beca’s lips with a sudden urgency, a hunger, that fades into a slow, lazy kiss, and Chloe sinks into it, relishing the feel of Beca’s fingertips skating in no discernable pattern up and down her back, before sitting up again.  Beca watches Chloe intently as she releases Beca’s arms so she can push her hair off her face. “What?” she asks when her eyes find Beca’s again.

Beca says nothing.  Instead, she lets her fingers do the talking, caressing Chloe’s sides -- from the top of her hips to under her breasts, letting her thumbs fall into the sharp creases of Chloe’s abs.  Beca wonders how she’s so sensually muscular and she allows her fingers to trace over the redhead's stomach, watching it quiver under her touch.

A sharp intake of breath from above her snaps Beca’s attention back to Chloe and her hands follow, curling around her ribs and inching further up to find purchase on two beautiful breasts, small enough to fit in Beca’s hands but still deliciously firm.  

Beca smooths her palms over Chloe’s nipples, loving the way they quickly stiffen and rise under her touch. Once they’re erect, Beca turns her hand palm-side up and slides them in between her first two fingers, letting her thumbs rub over the tips. 

“Beca, what are you --?” The stimulation at once makes Chloe throw her head back with a moan and grind down harder into Beca’s stomach. 

Beca doesn’t need to look down to know that her stomach is streaked with Chloe.  She can feel the wetness, and an increasingly hardening clit. With one hand she reaches down to touch it, rubbing it with her thumb.  

“Yes, Beca,” Chloe breathes as her head drops forward and she watches Beca touching her for a moment before placing her hand over Beca’s to move it exactly where she wants it.  Her eyes flutter closed at the direct content. “Yes,” she breathes out. “Yes, just like that.” 

Chloe’s hands are flat on Beca’s stomach, bearing most of her weight, and Beca likes the feeling of Chloe pressing her into the mattress.  Sure it’s harder to breathe, but she can’t say for sure whether that’s because she has a human on top of her or because she’s so turned on.

And she is definitely turned on.  The thought that Chloe trusts her enough to lie naked before her, to let her touch the most intimate parts of her in the most sensual way, to make her feel good, to make her come might just be enough to get her off.

But, oh!  Just in case that  _ wasn’t  _ enough…

She feels the bed rise beneath her and a slight coolness replaces the wet heat that had previously taken up residence on her abdomen.  Her head snaps up to find that Chloe has switched her position -- a beautifully sinewy back now in front of her that doing absolutely nothing to ratchet down Beca’s need to touch her.  

She softly rakes her nails up to Chloe’s shoulders, back down to the dimples right above her rear end and then loops her arms around her waist, accidentally (or maybe not) hitting that spot on either side of her that she knows is ticklish.

Chloe squirms on top of Beca, who grips her hips to steady them but not completely stop them from rocking over and over again, riding Beca’s stomach.   

Beca’s ready to repeat the pattern across Chloe’s back, when she feels a delicate hand on her inner thigh, fingers walking up higher, higher.  Her hands freeze and her eyes widen at the sensation, heightened by the fact that Chloe is blocking her vision, and Beca has no idea where her hand is going to go next. 

Well, OK.  She has  _ some  _ idea, but she can’t predict exactly, which is why she gasps when she feels another hand on the opposite thigh, caressing but also gently spreading her legs apart.  

“Chloe,” Beca says softly, as if she doesn’t want to disturb or interrupt her -- she thinks she might wither into the ground if Chloe stopped touching her at this moment.  While her touches aren’t anything outwardly sexual, they still feel charged with emotion. They still make her skin tingle with want and she reflexively pushes her hips up, silently begging for more contact.   

Chloe only “hmms” and Beca can’t really be sure if she’s acquiescing or simply acknowledging a request that she doesn’t have any intentions of addressing.  At least not yet. She’s too busy teasing. Dragging her fingers up the crease between Beca’s legs and her pussy lips, making Beca’s hips buck again and making herself giggle a little. 

“Chloe,” she says sharply, a little louder this time. 

When Chloe doesn’t respond, Beca retaliates by gripping her hips and sliding the redhead backwards down the length of her body.  The action makes Chloe fall forward so she’s laying flat against Beca, her head opportunistically between Beca’s legs. 

Quickly taking advantage of her position, she blows across Beca’s clit, causing her to clamp her thighs around Chloe’s head and making Chloe laugh.  

“OhmygodChloe,” Beca rushes out in a quick exhale.  

“Relax and let me take care of you,” Chloe responds, prying her thighs apart and making sure her lips are pressed right up against Beca.  The vibration alone is enough to make her want to squeeze her legs together again, but Chloe already has her hands firmly planted on the insides of Beca’s knees, holding them apart.  

With no build up or warning, Beca feels Chloe’s warm mouth attach to her clit, taking her between her lips and swirling her tongue around over top of it, then pushing the tip of her tongue into it, rendering Beca speechless.  Literally. She can only press her head further into the pillow and throw her arm over her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing as Chloe’s mouth alternates between intense, forceful sucks and long, soft, lustful licks. 

The rhythm is doing absolutely nothing to get Beca closer to coming.  And Chloe knows it full well. She’s maintaining a steady, predictable pace, no matter how Beca rolls her hips. No matter how she bears down and pushes herself into Chloe’s mouth, Chloe doesn’t stray from her pattern, essentially trapping Beca in some sort of sexual purgatory.  Though if Beca  _ really  _ thought about it, it wasn’t the worst place to be. It wasn’t bad at all, actually. A beautiful red head between her legs, doing filthy things with her mouth to wind her up and then doing god knows what to make her forget her own name. 

Beca can't even think about that right now.  She just knows she's getting close and she has no idea how to prepare herself for what will undoubtedly be a thigh-quaking, fist-biting orgasm.  Her whole body is starting to tense and she grips Chloe's hips tighter, trying to steel herself, fingers pressing into bone.

It's then that she realizes.  Her eyes snap open as she remembers…

She wiggles herself down the bed, pushing her head and shoulders into the mattress to get her mouth where she wants it, further under Chloe, and wastes no time teasing Chloe with her tongue.

Two can play at this game.

As expected, Chloe is soaking wet when Beca takes her into her mouth, letting her get used to the sensation before Beca is inside her.

Chloe wastes no time pushing herself down on Beca to try and get her as deep into her pussy as she can.  When Beca extends her tongue, Chloe moans loudly, sending a vibration right into Beca's clit.

Beca, in turn, does the same, never losing her rhythm as she continues to tongue fuck Chloe, pulling out just to the very tip and then slamming back into her as best as she can.  Every so often, her chin drops low enough or Chloe shifts her hips enough for Beca to hit the redhead’s clit, making Chloe roll her hips. Beca relishes the juices that are seeming spilling out of the other girl, her arms wrapped tight around Chloe's thighs.  She furiously laps at her but still feels the wetness roll on to her chest and trickle between her breasts.

Chloe's moans shoot through Beca, each one making her jerk away from Chloe's mouth, before Chloe pulls her back. Finally, with Beca's movements starting to get frenzied, Chloe presses hard into Beca's thighs, hands on the inside of her knees to hold her open.

They are both exhausted, but it's become a test of wills to see who can outlast the other.  Chloe's impressed so far at the extent of Beca's control, but she can feel it start to waver as she curls her lips over her teeth and begins to drag them from the base to the top of Beca’s clit before sucking it hard, releasing it and starting all over again.

She hears Beca gasp, followed by ragged breathing, but Beca never takes her mouth off Chloe. Instead, Chloe can feel the pleasurable pressure of Beca's tongue, licking and stroking her from the inside.  Occasionally, she lets Chloe ride her face before taking back control and fucking her again. She feels Chloe's thighs close around her head, muffling the moans that she can feel across her pussy.

Beca starts to twist and roll her tongue inside Chloe, the new sensation causing her to buck her hips, which gives Becca more room to slide even further under Chloe.  From this position she can finally, finally wrap her lips around Chloe's clit.

At first she teases with the tip of her tongue, but she soon can't resist sucking at her and it seems Chloe can't resist Beca’s mouth. 

“Make me come, Bec.  Please.” Chloe growls out quickly at the contact before returning to work on Beca's clit.

Beca does as she's been told, continuing to apply increasing suction to the pulsing knot of nerves between Chloe's legs.

Chloe, however, doesn't need to be told.  She can feel Beca's clit throbbing in between her lips, like a beacon calling the ships to shore, and she buries her face further into Beca, her mouth wrapped around it, sucking hard. 

Beca's grunts are steadily increasing in both frequency and pitch, until her legs straighten and stiffen.  She feels Beca's body underneath hers go rigid and she knows her mouth contorts in a silent cry when, at the peak of her orgasm, she tears herself away from Chloe's pussy for the briefest of moments.

Chloe's mouth softens around Beca, tongue gently caressing her down, but she accidentally clamps down once more, when Beca starts to suck her hungrily, like a starving baby ravaging his bottle and Chloe loses control of her hips, bucking wildly on Beca's face as she comes in her mouth, repeating Beca's name over and over until she has nothing more to give.

Outside the door, Oliver is poised to knock when he hears Chloe's breathless mantra and he jumps back, quickly turning down the hallway and returning to the group in the kitchen.

“Well,” asks Aubrey.  “Are they coming down for breakfast?”

“Oh, they're coming all right,” Oliver says rolling his eyes, “And I'm pretty sure it's not breakfast they're eating.”

Aubrey and Henry both make a face of disgust, but Oliver and Stacy can't control their laughter mixed with mock cries of “Oh, Beca!” and “Yes, Chlo.  Yes!”

Back upstairs, Chloe has flopped down on Beca's front, face-to-face this time, her arms wrapped around the brunette's middle and her head tucked into Beca's chest.  Beca pulls Chloe in close, as her fingertips rake up and down her back and across her shoulders, stilling at her nape to play with the springy curls there. Chloe smirks into Beca's shoulder.  “I think they heard us.”

Beca quirks an eyebrow.  “Us?”

Chloe picks her head up, laughing when she sees Beca smiling. “Don't blame me.  This is all your fault,” she says, poking Beca in the stomach, which causes her grasp Chloe's hands to still them.

“How is it my fault?  I didn't force you to wake the neighbors.”

“I did no such thing.”  

“You might have.”

“Well, if you weren't so good with your mouth --”

Beca pulls Chloe down into a deep kiss and smiles against Chloe's lips as she feels the redhead's pussy start to rock against her.

“Chloe, again?  Really?” she chuckles.

Chloe blushes and ducks her head.  “Sorry. That's just what you do to me, Beca,” she says softly.

Beca crooks a finger under Chloe's chin and tips her head up so she can look into two shockingly blue eyes.  “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” she says as she pecks Chloe's lips, “except the fact that we have NOSY JEALOUS FRIENDS!”

Beca yells the last part of that sentence knowing full well she can be heard in the kitchen only to hear Aubrey bite back with “NOSY JEALOUS FRIENDS WHO MADE YOU COFFEE AND PANCAKES!”

Beca and Chloe look at each other for a moment that is interrupted when Chloe's stomach lets out an angry growl.  

“Looks like we have a different beast to feed,” says Beca, rolling Chloe on to her back and peppering her belly with kisses.

Chloe giggles her sweet giggle, and Beca knows she should probably let her up so they can go downstairs with the rest of their friends, but she needs just a few more seconds of that sound. She wills her brain to remember it until next time and ,with one last kiss for a smiling Chloe, she tosses the redhead her pajamas and a robe so they can face the barrage of teasing (and food) that awaits them downstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been so much easier if I could have just relied on B&C using texts and emails. But noooooo, I hadda write a 1930s AU.

Chloe can't remember a time in her life when she's cried this hard for this long.  Stacie and Aubrey offer brief distractions from her sadness, but provide little in the way of lasting comfort. There’s really only one person who can do that, and she’s 3,400 miles away in London.   

Mrs. Beale is of course upset for her daughter but, if she’s honest with herself, she’s also a little distraught at what she believes is the cause of this depressive episode: Chloe and Henry have fought and, if history is any indication, Chloe has quickly written off her current marriage prospect -- the latest in a long, long string of potential husbands that never made it to the end of the aisle -- as unsuitable and unworthy.  So she’s relieved when Henry shows up at the Beales’ door with a handful of gerber daisies, Chloe’s favorite. 

Henry kisses Mrs. Beale’s cheek. “How is she?” 

“The same as she’s been for the last two weeks.  Inconsolable. Maybe you can cheer her up. She’s in the parlor.”

She gestures to the room off the entryway and watches as Henry knocks and enters.  But, the only words she can make out before the door slides closed is, “Chloe, I have some news…” and she gulps. 

 

XxxX

 

In a top-floor flat somewhere in London, Beca sits at the piano and plays a dirge of minor chords that contrasts with this -- a rare sunny day in the dead of winter.  But Beca can’t look outside. The blue is just too painfully familiar. 

She has a rehearsal with the orchestra in about an hour for the Conservatory’s Spring Fling, but she hasn’t even glanced at the piece she’s supposed to play - Chopin, she thinks. Or maybe Ravel.  Either way, she’s confident enough in her abilities to sight read her way through at least this practice, and she promises herself she’ll refocus once this sadness passes... _ if  _ it passes. 

There’s a knock on her door and about seven envelopes fall through the mail slot on to her floor.  Normally, she would just kick them to the side but a red, white and blue striped one catches her eye and she actually smiles when she sees the post mark:  New York, NY.

“God,” she thinks.  “My face isn’t used to doing this.”  

She tears open the envelope at a side seam, careful not to rip the fragile tissue-paper inside.  The first thing she notices is the scent that wafts out - Rumeur. Unmistakably Chloe. And Beca wants to believe that Chloe didn’t merely spray the paper with an atomizer.  Rather, she curled up with it in her arms one night, tucked it into her neck and slept with under her head so that the peachy, citrusy notes became part of the fabric of the paper.  

Carefully, she unfolds the letter and is struck by Chloe’s beautiful penmanship.  “Is there nothing about this woman that isn’t perfect?” 

Her eyes drop down to Chloe’s signature at the bottom:  a hand-drawn heart, followed by a curly letter “C.” She touches the ink with reverence, as if she were actually caressing Chloe’s skin.  And in some ways she is. Chloe was the last person to hold the letter before she put it in the envelope, and the only one to hold it since then is Beca.  So the letter feels like a direct physical connection to the woman she left behind nearly three weeks ago. But she knows Chloe’s words will have much more of an emotional impact, which is why as much as it kills her, she folds the letter back up along the creases Chloe made and shoves it back in the envelope, right as the clock strikes noon. 

“Shit.  I’m going to be late!” 

The letter lingers on Beca’s mind all day, derailing her concentration.  Her attempt to sight read her way through rehearsal does not go as planned.  That results in a conversation with her mentor immediately afterwards about her wavering focus of late, but his words are like water through her fingers.  She retains none of it. Unless it’s about the letter or its contents, Beca just doesn’t have the patience for much else today. 

Her feet can’t carry her home fast enough.  If she didn't know better she'd almost think it was Chloe herself, not just a letter, waiting for here there.

 

XxxX

 

“Does she know?  Have you told her?” 

Henry shakes his head. 

“What about my parents?  Do they know?” 

“No, I figured you’d want to be the one to break the news.

Chloe glances up at Henry from where she’s seated on the couch, twirling a tassel from one of her pillows between her fingers. “So help me, Henry George Colbert.  If this is some joke that you and Oliver cooked up -- “

He kneels on the floor in front of Chloe, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “It’s not. I promise,” he says. “In fact, Oliver usually comes with me, but he thought this time it made sense for you to join me for more reasons than one.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

“That’s very generous of him” 

“He can be a gentleman when he wants to be.” 

A smile starts to tug at the corners of Chloe’s mouth.  “We should tell my parents. I’ll need to get things in order.” 

 

XxxX

 

_ January 17, 1933 _

_ Dearest Beca,  _

_ I still can’t believe how quickly the last three months have flown by since we first met and how deeply I’ve fallen for you in such a short amount of time.  I also can’t quite fathom that you’re no longer here with me, or that you've only been gone for a day. It truly feels like a piece of me is missing -- went out to the store to get milk and never came back.   _

“I’ll always find my way back to you, Chlo.”  Beca promises to an empty flat, a half-drunk glass of whiskey next to her on the table. 

_ I hope you find things to distract you while we’re apart -- I know I’ll have to or else I’ll go mad -- but please,  _ please _ don’t forget me.  _

“You’re all I think about all the time.  Hell, I see your face where there are supposed to be music notes. I don’t think I could forget you if I tried.”  

_ The next five months will be hard, but seeing you again at Aubrey’s wedding?  Well, I fear that might be worse. Why, you ask? I worry that I won’t be able to contain myself around you, Beca.  The things you make me feel just by existing, by breathing next to me -- sometimes I’m not sure if I have enough room in my body to contain it all.   _

Beca’s glad to know she has company in feeling like she might explode with emotion.  

_ I’ve committed to writing to you every week, so you’ll always have mail in your box.  I might not always have something interesting to say, but I want you to know how much I miss you.  I can’t seem to escape how much it hurts. I know you’re in London, doing what you love…. _

“I did what I love on New Year’s Eve.  And New Year’s Day. And twice later that night,” thinks Beca with a smirk.  But any pride she was taking in the creativity of her quip quickly vanished as she read on.

... _ But selfishly, I hate that you have another love to occupy your time and I find myself wishing -- _

The next words are smudged, feathered ink bleeding across the page.  Beca glances down and sees similar blemishes dotted across the lower third of the letter.  At first she thinks the culprit is probably rain, but then she realizes: tears. Chloe’s tears.

She rushes to her desk to find a pen and something to write on, but she only has score paper.  It’s not her preference, but she needs to get her thoughts down. 

 

XxxX

 

“London?” Mrs. Beale asks incredulously.  “England?” It’s not the news she thought she’d be hearing when Henry and Chloe asked to speak with them. 

“Yes, Mother. “ 

“Tell us again your business there, son?” asks Mr. Beale who takes a long hit off his pipe, his eyes narrowing in Henry’s direction, trying to read his intentions. 

The look makes Henry nervous.  Chloe squeezes his hand, sending a boost of confidence his way.  He clears his throat as he explains his trip. “My company, Burberry, has an annual planning meeting every year at its headquarters in London that I’m asked to attend.  I thought Chloe would like to join me. She’ll be without me during the day, but I’ve arranged for a friend to show her around.”

“And this friend…”

“Yes, Sir. Beca.  I met her through Aubrey.  They grew up together here in New York, but now she lives in London full-time.” 

Chloe threatens to become giddy at just the mention of Beca's name, and she claps her hands down over her knees that have started to bounce in anticipation.

“That sounds fine, Aurthur.  If she knows the Posens, I’m sure she’s lovely.  What does she do?” 

“She’s a musician.  A very talented one at that.” 

“Not one of those street buskers, I hope?” 

“Absolutely not, Sir.  She plays for the London Symphony.” 

The elder Beales’ eyes widen and Chloe can’t help but smile.

“And how long would you be gone?”

“We’d leave March 12 and would be back by mid-April.” 

“A whole month?  Chloe, dear. Are you comfortable with this?”

“Yes, Father, I love London, and Henry will take great care of me.” She slides her fingers through his and glances at him.  The smile across his face is one of success, acknowledging that they’ve almost pulled this off. Approval from the Beales will seal the deal.

Mr. Beale starts to pace, wringing his hands.  “I don’t know about this, Chloe.” 

“Arthur, please,” Mrs. Beale stares at him, expecting him to get the more subtle message: butt out so as not to ruin our daughter's chance at marriage.

“Father, I’m a grown woman. I’m familiar with London.  We’ve been there many times for your work. And I’d like to experience it with Henry.” 

“I think that sounds reasonable, Arthur,” but Mr. Beale quickly shuts down his wife before she prematurely gives her approval for this young man to whisk their daughter away, his intentions completely a mystery, at least until he can have a frank discussion with Henry.

“Ann, Chloe, please excuse us.” 

“Arthur…” Mrs. Beale says sternly.

“Ann, please.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Chloe lets Henry see her roll her eyes.  He pulls her close and whispers in her ear. “It’s OK, Chloe.”  She kisses his cheek and follows her mother out of the room. 

Once they're gone, Mr. Beale claps a hand over Henry's shoulder.  “Son, level with me. Is this trip to London meant to be a proposal?  Are you asking for my only daughter, my only child's, hand?”

Henry supposes he should have anticipated this, but he's still somewhat taken aback a how quickly in their relationship the subject of marriage is being discussed as a possibility. “God, girls -- and their parents -- are hard,” he thinks to himself, but he remembers how important this is and answers the only way a gentleman should. “Sir, I love Chloe and I do intend to marry her but, when I feel the time is right.  I would never ask for her hand without your and Mrs. Beale's permission. With all due respect, Sir, my parents raised me better than that “

Mr. Beale sighs.  “You're right. You're right. I'm sorry, Son.”

“I can assure you I will take good care of Chloe.  She'll have her own hotel room. I'll take care of all the costs -- the flights, meals and hotel.  She won't want for anything. And Beca is lovely. They'll get along swimmingly.”

“You’ve made a convincing case, Henry. You're a good man.”

He slaps Henry on the back.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?  You better tell your girl to start packing.  And Colbert, you need to join me at the club for a drink sometime.”

 

XxxX

 

_ February 3, 1933 _

_ My Sweet Chloe,  _

_ I just received your letter today.  It was a bright spot -- maybe the brightest spot in my life since I left New York nearly a month ago.  I don't think my brain or my heart was prepared for the weight of your absence. Every day just seems to drag on, but I do like the idea of writing -- it sort of makes it feel like you're here with me.  When I read your letter, I could almost hear your voice and I could see in my mind's eye your expressions, but I still miss how you feel in my arms and the way you cuddle up so, so close to me that your eyelashes flutter on my cheek.  I want you that close again, Chloe, and I want to stay like that with you forever. _

_ I hate that I met the most beautiful woman when there are thousands of miles between us, but I love that you still let me love you.  I promise to always. _

_ Missing you, _

_ Beca _

 

XxxX

 

_ January 19, 1933 _

_ Dearest Beca, _

_ I trust your music is going well.  I keep thinking about the song you played while we were in the Hamptons over New Year's.  The one you were writing. Whatever became of it? I love hearing you play, and I think we make beautiful music together.  I'm sitting here listening to Billie, feeling the ache in her voice, and thinking of you. Then again, I'm always thinking of you, no matter what song is playing. _

_ A foggy day, in London town _ __  
_ It had me low, and it had me down _ __  
_ I viewed the morning, with much alarm _ _  
_ __ The British Museum, had lost its charm…

_ Sing to me, Beca.  I miss your voice. _

 

_ XxxX _

 

_ February 5, 1933 _

_ My Sweet Chloe, _

_ Your wish is my command: _

_ I love the look of you, the lure of you _ __  
_ The sweet of you, the pure of you  _ __  
_ The eyes, the arms, the mouth of you _ __  
_ The east, west, north, and the south of you _ __  
_ I'd love to gain complete control of you _ __  
_ And handle even the heart and soul of you _ __  
_ So love, at least, a small percent of me, do _ _  
_ __ For I love all of you.

_ I think I've worn this record thin from listening to it so much, just like I've worn my mind thin from thinking of you so much.  _

_ I've been working hard on “our song.” I'll play it for you someday, but I have to wait for the perfect moment. _

_ All my love, _

_ Beca _

 

_ XxxX _

 

For the fourth day in a row, Beca prepares her morning coffee before rehearsal.  And for the fourth day in a row, the post arrives without a certain air mail envelope.  

Up until now, Beca's been getting letters from Chloe about every two days, that is until recently, which concerns Beca.  She's let her mind run wild with scenarios about what could have happened to Chloe. The most obvious and frightening is that somehow Chloe was found out and had been cut off from her circle of friends.  That means until she’s in contact with Aubrey or Stacie, Beca will never really know exactly happened to Chloe. Will not quickly get the closure she knows she'd need to at least try to move on. 

In the meantime, she pens a quick letter to Chloe in the hopes of getting some answers:

_ February 6, 1933 _

_ My Sweet Chloe, _

_ It's been four days since I received a letter from you.  I'm worried. Is everything OK?  _

_ Please write and tell me you're fine.  At least I hope you are. _

_ Thinking of you always and counting the hours until I hear from you again.  Perhaps our envelopes will be star-crossed in the mail, like Romeo and Juliet.   _

_ All my love. _

 

XxxX

 

As he's done for the past few weeks, Henry brings Beca's letter for Chloe, hoping this time, she'll have one to mail to Beca.  But she doesn't.

He reads the letter over Chloe's shoulder.  

“When was the last time you wrote to her?”

“It's been a few days, having to pack and renew my passport.  It's been hectic.”

“Chloe, she's probably going crazy thinking something happened.  You really should tell her.”

“I'm sending her a telegram today, in fact. I thought I could write a letter, but we might beat it there at this point and what good is that? Walk with me to Western Union?”

 

XxxX

 

Day five with no letter from Chloe.  Beca hasn't been sleeping or eating well out of worry and therefore hasn't been performing well.  Her mentor says if she keeps this up, her scholarship could be in jeopardy.

She slings her bag over her shoulder to head to rehearsal and opens her flat door only to be greeted with a uniformed Western Union messenger.  

“Ms. B. Mitchell?”

Beca nods, dumbfounded.  The last time she got a telegram was to tell her that her grandma has passed away.

The messenger hands her a clipboard.  “Sign here, please.”

She does as she's told and he gives her the envelope.

“Good day, Miss.” With a tip of his cap he's gone.

Beca closes the door and sits on her couch to carefully unseal the envelope. She glances down to the end of the message and breathes a small sigh of relief when she realizes it's from Chloe. Her eyes then wander back to the beginning of the message, hoping it's good news:

_ Beca -STOP- expect surprise pkg -STOP- arrival 12 March in the a.m. -STOP- must be at home to accept delivery. Love, CB. -STOP- _

Beca’s stomach jumps and suddenly the dark rain cloud that seems to have been hanging over her for the last few days has lifted.  While she has no earthly idea what the surprise could be, she’s excited to hear from Chloe and happy that she has something to look forward to.   For a moment, she lets herself get excited that maybe Chloe is coming to visit, but she tempers those expectations, realizing that the logistics to make something like that happen could be complicated and risky. 

 

XxxX

 

Henry must admit, his pretend wife is pretty creative. She made it so that Beca will have to be home the morning of their arrival without giving away the surprise.

“Excited, Chloe?”

“You have no idea.  Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Of course.”  He drapes an arm over her shoulders.  “I know it's not easy now, but --” 

OOMPH!

An unseen, unanticipated force knocks Henry back about five steps.  Chloe stops to make sure he's OK before looking up at the offending roadblock.

“Tom?  What are you -- ?”

The hit was obviously intentional.  Tom’s smirk gives it away, but he pretends otherwise. “Chloe, it's good to see you, and my apologies to your friend here.”

“Boyfriend,” Chloe says immediately, instinctually, but with venom. “His name is Henry.” 

“Henry.  Tom. Good to meet you.” 

They shake hands.  “So sorry for almost knocking you over.  Didn't expect you'd be so, uh, light in your loafers.”  

Henry almost lets his anger show.  He’s seeing red and his hands want to curl up into tight fists, but he’s able to remain outwardly stoic and not react to what was clearly an inciting comment from Tom.  Instead, he exacts better revenge, wrapping an arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her close and kissing her temple. Chloe plays along, tucking herself closer into Henry’s side.  Both have a front row seat to Tom outwardly seething. 

“Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment at the club.  Chloe, I imagine your dad will be there, so I will be sure to tell him I saw you.  And Henry too, of course. Good day.”

Once he’s but of sight, Henry has to restrain Chloe in the middle of 64th Street.  She’s furious that Tom ambushed them and nervous about what, if anything, he’ll say to Mr. Beale.  He’s clearly suspect of Henry, and with one snide remark could unleash the drop of doubt in her parents’ minds that would unravel everything. 

“Chloe, in just a few weeks we’re leaving for London.  Nothing will happen. I promise.” 

But it does happen.  That night at the dinner table.

Chloe’s pushing around her food, feeling too unsettled to eat.  

Mr. Beale notices, but decides not to say anything about it, instead choosing to talk about his day.   Chloe tunes him out until she hears, “Saw your friend today - what’s his name? Reynolds. Tim? Tom?”

“Tom,” Chloe mutters.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Arthur, why would you bring up Chloe’s ex-boyfriend?” Mrs. Beale chides. 

“He wasn’t ever my boyfriend.  We went on one date.” 

Mr. Beale just ignores the whole exchange. “Anyway, saw him at the club today.   He doesn’t think too highly of the Colbert boy.” 

“Henry is wonderful. How could anyone not love him?” says Mrs. Beale.  “He’s probably just jealous that Chloe chose Henry over him.” 

“Perhaps.” And Mr. Beale is content to move on.  But for some reason -- maybe she’s a masochist -- Chloe probes.  If this is all going to go to hell, she wants it to happen fast. 

“What, um, what did he say?”

“I’ll be honest Chloe, I wasn’t paying much mind to him.  He was like a puppy following me around everywhere, and I just wanted to smoke my pipe and read the  _ Wall Street Journal. _  Something about Henry being a cheat, I think.” 

Mrs. Beale gasps and drops her cutlery on to the plate, making a loud clang that echoes throughout the dining room that causes them all to flinch.  “It’s not possible. He can’t be. Henry’s not a -- “ Mrs. Beale looks up at Chloe for confirmation, completely unaware of the churn that’s happening within Chloe’s head at this very moment.  Technically, yes, Henry is cheating on Oliver with her, but Oliver is fully aware of the relationship and the reasons behind it, and he’s doing the same with Aubrey. 

Perhaps Chloe should be a politician or a lawyer because her response is simply perfect.  “Of course not, Mother. I’m the only woman he’s seeing.” It’s exactly what her mother wants to hear without having to lie.  Yes, she is the only  _ woman,  _ though not necessarily the only  _ person _ that Henry is involved with, but her mother didn’t ask that question, did she? 

Mrs. Beale visibly relaxes at Chloe’s response.  Mr. Beale has already moved on to other things, talking some such about the Yankees with Earl, one of their house staff, and Chloe breathes a sigh of relief that her secret is safe...at least for another day.  


	15. Chapter 15

Chloe settles herself into the first class seat next to Henry.  She takes the window since his legs are longer and he might want to stretch into the aisle.  She’s using every ounce of her self control to not spend the entire flight bouncing with excitement and anticipation at seeing Beca, at surprising her and seeing that look on her face.  

Beca’s beautiful face. Those eyes. That smirk that drives Chloe absolutely crazy.  It’s equal parts charming, sexy and infuriating. 

That’s the last thought in her head before she drifts off to sleep only to be awoken an hour or two later by Henry, asking what she’d like for dinner. 

As their meals are served, Henry and Chloe are chatting comfortably about music, movies, their families and the differences growing up in Atlanta and New York.  It’s then that Henry lowers his voice, leaning into Chloe. “So, when did you, you know…” he raises an eyebrow. “... _ Know _ ?” 

Chloe immediately understands Henry’s “code” without further explanation.  “I think I really new in high school. While most girls were fawning all over Doug Fairbanks or Valentino or Louis Kenny -- “   


“Louis Kenny?”

Chloe giggles.  “The captain of the my high school's football team.” 

“Right.” 

“Well, I was too busy trying to find ways to stay after class to talk to Miss Victor, who I just thought was the most beautiful, intelligent woman.  I couldn’t... I couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

“Did it ever...did anything ever happen?” 

“No.  I graduated with an unrequited crush on my high school English teacher, but she was soon forgotten when I got to Emory.”

Henry sips his wine, waiting for Chloe to continue.  

“That’s where I met and fell head over heels with Catherine Grace Stanton.  Katie.” 

“Chloe and Katie?” 

“Yeah, maybe the alliteration was a little silly, though not our fault.  Katie was so cute and sweet, and an incredibly talented artist. She was like Beca in a lot of ways.  I think I really could have...loved her, but...”

“But?” 

Chloe heaves a deep sigh and Henry takes her hand in his.  

“Our parents forced us apart.  My incredibly jealous, spiteful roommate told my parents and Katie’s parents, and they made us swear never to go near each other ever again, but that wasn’t before the gossip spread all throughout Atlanta, completely tarnishing the Beale name, if you believe Arthur and Ann.  That’s why my parents moved us to New York.” 

“I’m sorry, Chloe.  I didn’t mean to…I didn’t think…” 

“It’s OK.” She wipes a tear that’s escaped and squeezes Henry’s hand.  “I haven’t really thought about Katie in a while. Come to think of it, since moving to New York, I haven’t really thought about anyone that way. It was just too risky.  My parents were beside themselves when they found out the first time.” 

“What about Beca?” 

“What about her?” 

“She’s worth the risk?” 

A slow, shy smile spreads across Chloe’s face.   “If anyone is…” She allows the revelation just hang there between the two of them, letting Henry come to his own conclusion while she basks in the realization -- the relief, really -- that she can finally start to let herself think about life with another person.  With a woman. With Beca.

“Well, enough about me. What about you?” 

XxxX

While Chloe and Henry are somewhere over the Atlantic, Beca is waking up earlier than usual.  It could be because her sleep the previous night was fitful, anxious for her surprise; the curiosity is killing her.  It might also be that for the first time in over a week, Beca awakens to bright sunshine streaming through her curtains.  As she lies in bed letting her eyes adjust, she laughs to herself, thinking how funny it would be if Chloe, who radiates boundless energy and brightness, was actually in London -- was her surprise --  bringing the sun with her. But her smile fades quickly when she thinks about how complicated a maneuver would be need to actually make that happen.  

Sighing, she allows herself a few more moments in bed.  She doesn’t really know why she does when the other side is cold and empty.  It’s that thought that drags her out from beneath the covers and through the motions of her usual morning - coffee, breakfast, a quick freshen up and some warm-up exercises before heading to rehearsal.  

Beca’s just about to sit at the piano, flexing her fingers, when the bell rings.  She can’t get to the door fast enough and what awaits her on the other side nearly knocks her out cold - literally and figuratively. 

Before she can even process who’s standing there, the figure crashes into her, taking them both to the floor.  “How lovely,” Beca thinks to herself, “A kidnapping. Not quite the surprise I was expecting.”

Then again, neither is Chloe Beale, lying on top of her. 

She doesn’t even need to open her eyes to know it’s Chloe.  The waft of Rumeur and her adorable giggle give it away.

Beca props herself up on her elbows, searching Chloe’s face for any indication that this a dream. She brings one hand up to Chloe’s cheek smoothing her thumb across soft skin, confirming that Chloe is real.  This is all real. Unable to look away from Chloe’s eyes -- bluer than she remembers them being -- she pulls the redhead down, placing a soft, slow kiss on her lips, loving the way Chloe hums against her mouth, clearly pleased.

After what is definitely not enough time kissing, Beca breaks the kiss so she can sit up.  “You’re really here,” she says running her fingers through red waves. 

“I’m really here.” 

“Hi,” Beca says quietly.

“Hi,” says Chloe before reaching forward to kiss Beca again, this time a little more deeply before someone near the door clears his throat. 

The both look up in Henry’s direction, before Beca turns to Chloe.  “Is he the surprise? Because…” She scrunches up her nose to feign disgust as Chloe laughs and helps her to her feet before playfully smacking her shoulder.  

“Be nice.  He’s the reason I’m here.” 

“And she’s the reason I almost had to get a separate cab from the airport.”  He steps aside to reveal three large suitcases. “Hi Beca.” 

“Hi Henry.”  She hugs Henry, who’s still in the doorway.  It’s a grateful hug. She’s sure she’ll find out more from Chloe about how all this transpired, but for now, she’s just happy for whatever Henry did that made it possible for to be Chloe standing here.  In her flat. In London. “Come in. I can put on some coffee.” 

“Thanks, Beca.  I would, but I’m just going to go to my hotel and sleep off this jet lag."  

“Get some rest, Henry,” Chloe stands on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.  “And don’t work too hard.”

"Yes, ma'am.  How about drinks and dinner on Friday night?"

“Only if it's my treat.  You know, for delivering her safely,” says Beca, wrapping an arm around Chloe’s waist.  

He nods.  

"It’s good to see you, Henry,” she says affectionately.  Whatever jealousy Beca harbored for Henry has dissipated over the last few months.  She can appreciate how kind he is to the woman she loves and how he takes care of her, especially when she can't, and she thinks that deserves a little bit of respect and fondness. 

“Same, Beca.  Take good care of her.”   With that, Henry scoops up his suitcase and disappears down the stairs.

Beca reaches into the hallway for Chloe’s bags. “Gees, Chloe, how long are you staying? A month?”

Chloe just beams and nods when Beca looks at her, eyes wide in disbelief.  “A month? Really?” 

“Un-unless you don’t want me to.  Then I can stay with Henry in his hotel roo -- ”

Chloe’s cut off when Beca grips her hips and pulls her in, landing a firm kiss on her lips that knocks her off balance.  Beca loves the way Chloe’s mouth moves with hers. Even though they haven’t really kissed  _ that _ many times, everything about the red head’s body feels familiar and oh so comfortable. Beca doesn’t want to let her go, especially now, when Chloe’s forehead is pressed against hers and she can feel her chest heaving, taking in as much oxygen as possible before their lips come together again, chasing, teasing and tasting one another through a long, deep kiss.  

Beca’s fingers thread through thick red hair, hands cupping the back of Chloe's head to hold her close.  Chloe’s hands on Beca’s neck are as light as warm ocean mist, caressing her down her jaw bone and across her collarbone, coming to rest flat against her chest.  

As they do, Beca tugs Chloe closer and toward the couch. Chloe draws back from the kiss, never taking her eyes off the brunette as Beca reaches up to gently take Chloe's hands from where they rest on her chest into her own.  She sits on the couch guiding Chloe down with her, and Chloe is all too willing to follow her lead.

They're quiet for a moment, Beca playing with Chloe's curls.  “You're beautiful,” she whispers.

Chloe leans forward to show her appreciation of the sweet compliment, but rather than mirror Chloe's movement, Beca backs away, fully reclining on the couch and pulling Chloe on top of her.

Rehearsal is the furthest thing from Beca's mind when she has the weight of Chloe's body on hers and Chloe is tangling their legs together.  With every breath Chloe takes, Beca feels the minutes until she has to leave for the afternoon slipping away, but chooses to ignore it. Instead, she wraps her arms around Chloe, slipping her hands up under Chloe's shirt to roam over the smooth hills and valleys of her muscular back and tips her head up for another kiss.

Chloe feels Beca's sweet tongue pressing against her lips. Her contented sigh parts them slightly, and they let each other slowly, almost languidly, play and explore. 

The way Chloe is moaning into their kisses is driving Beca crazy and she can't help the buck of her hips up into the redhead.  Chloe responds by rolling her hips into Beca's and Beca changes the angle of her head to lick deeper in to Chloe's mouth.

She's so close to skipping rehearsal because who wants to spend hours at a piano when that time would be better spent reacquainting herself with every inch of Chloe, who seems to have gotten more beautiful since she kissed her goodbye in January.

Chloe's tongue twisting with hers makes up her mind once and for all, but no sooner than she brings her hands up to Chloe's sides, thumbs caressing the sides of her breasts than Chloe pushes herself off Beca.

Beca starts to question it, but sees the exhaustion in Chloe's eyes and understands immediately.  “Come here,” she says.

“I'm sorry, Beca. I've missed you so much.  It feels so good to be like this with you, but --”

“Don't apologize, Chloe.  Just sleep.”

Chloe smiles and rests her head on Beca's chest, her nose finding that spot in the crook of her neck -- the one she seemed to zone in on when they first met seven months ago. They both start to doze and Beca equates getting up from the couch in this moment to chewing off her own arm.  In fact, if she had to choose, she’d pick the latter, but the clock strikes noon and breaks the spell. 

“Chloe,” says Beca, pulling her hands out of the back of the red head's shirt and smoothing it down.  “I have to go to rehearsal.”

Chloe does little to acknowledge Beca other than to hum contentedly and for a fraction of a second, Beca kind of hates that Chloe is this cute.  

It nearly kills her to have to slide out from under Chloe, but she's thankful that Chloe barely moves and is quickly succumbing to sleep.  

Before she loses her completely, Beca bends to kiss her and can't help but chuckle softly when Chloe smiles in her sleep.  

“I'll be home at four.  Rest well, baby.”

She doesn't get a response, doesn't expect one really, but hopes that her message implants itself somewhere accessible in Chloe's jet lagged brain.

With a kiss to her girlfriend's temple, Beca picks up her bag and quietly shuts the apartment door, leaving her surprise -- the best one of her life thus far --  behind.

XxxX

The sky has clouded over by the time Beca  is making her way home. That and knowing Chloe is waiting for her in her apartment make her want to do nothing else for the rest of the day but cuddle up in her bed with her girlfriend.

Beca's quiet when she puts the key in the lock and smiles to herself as she enters the flat and sees Chloe on the couch, in pretty much the same position she left her in four hours ago.

She smooths a hand through Chloe's hair, watching her peaceful face and the steady rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. 

Part of Beca's hates to disturb her, but the other part wants to slip her under the blankets and slip away with her.  

“Chloe?” There's no response.  “Chloe, I'm home.” Beca takes her limp hand and brings it up to her mouth to kiss her palm.  The action makes Chloe roll from her side to her back, and her clear blue eyes flutter open. “Hi.  I missed you.” Chloe returns a kiss to the back of Beca's hand.

“Did you even know I was gone?” Beca teases.

“Of course I did.  I didn't have anyone to cuddle me.”

Beca melts at those words, words she never wants to hear again.  She always wants to be there whenever Chloe needs to be held.  As a concession, “Come to bed with me?”

Chloe's eyes are dancing, giving away her smile before it even tugs at the corners of her lips.  “What are you getting at, Miss Mitchell?” she says could, her eyebrow quirked.

“A nap.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, if other things were to happen, I wouldn't be opposed.”

“And to what other things might you be referring, hmmm?”

Beca purposely doesn't take the bait.  It's more fun that way. “Well, what every person does in bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.  You know.  Read. Catch up on correspondence…”

Chloe laughs.  It's the laugh that Beca loves.  The one that makes her throw her head back, eyes squeezed shut, her nose crinkled.  Beca can't help but smile back. She takes Chloe's hand, pulling her up to her feet and spinning her to wrap her arms around her waist.  With her front against the redhead's back, Beca hooks her chin over Chloe's shoulder and Chloe lolls her head back on Beca. “Lead the way,” she says, kissing Beca's jaw.  

Beca, still pressed into Chloe's back, walks them to the bedroom.  She follows Chloe on to the bed, both of them laughing, landing with a “poof” on the plush white duvet cover.

Chloe reaches out for Beca, but Beca scrambles out of her reach and under the duvet. Not to be outdone, Chloe chases after her, burying herself next to her sweet, sweet Beca and pulling the covers up around their shoulders.

Beca and Chloe finally still next to each other, Beca finding Chloe's hand at their sides, their fingers each falling into the spaces between the other's.

Chloe sighs and rolls on to her side, hooking her leg over Beca's waist and inching closer until the front of her body is pasted against Beca's side.  She lifts her head and allows Beca to slip her arm behind her neck to hold her even closer. 

When Beca turns her head, she's nose to nose with Chloe. “Comfy?”

Chloe sits up, quickly sheds her top and shimmies out of her skirt.  Beca can’t tear her eyes away from the mini strip tease. 

“Now I am,” Chloe says as Beca follows suit. 

Once they’re settled back against each other, naked, Chloe drapes her arm across Beca's middle, loving the feeling of being wrapped up with the brunette, their feet taking turns dragging up smooth legs, arms wrapping around shoulders and fingers sliding indiscernible patterns over any available skin.   

When Beca playfully squeezes Chloe’s side, Chloe squeals and tries to squirm out of Beca's grasp before rolling into her again and pushing her shoulder into the mattress so she’s flat on her back. Chloe hovers over her for a moment, smirking, arms on either side of Beca's head, supporting  her. She’s just about to dip her head for a kiss, when Beca reaches around her to yank the covers over both of their heads, cocooning them in a billowy, white duvet.

Chloe gasps -- both the familiarity and coincidence startling her -- and finds herself staring into worried eyes.

“What is it, Chloe?” Beca asks, stroking Chloe’s cheek with her thumb.

“It’s nothing.  It’s just a silly thing.”  Chloe ducks her head to try and hide her blush.

“I don't believe that for a second.  Tell me? Please?” Beca reaches up to kiss her softly and searches her face for any sign of distress.

“I, um, I have a similar blanket at home and…” Chloe trails off not really sure how to continue and hoping Beca will just let it go.

But she persists.  “...And?”

“And,” Beca watches the flush intensify across Chloe's chest and face as she continues.  “And I've thought about what it might be like to, um, be under it with you. Now here we are.”

“Thought about?” Beca questions, teasing.

“Fine, fantasized about.”  Chloe rolls off of Beca and flops on to the mattress in a petulant huff. 

Beca can’t help but smile at her adorable girlfriend, and she can’t help but goad her a bit more.  “Really? You've fantasized about me? About us?”

Chloe can only nod, embarrassed. 

“Well, don’t stop there.  Please, tell me more,” she rolls into Chloe and just waits, her fingers lightly scratching Chloe’s taut belly, feeling the muscles twitch under her touch.     

Part of Chloe wants to kiss the smirk off Beca’s face, but another part wants to slap her.  Instead, Chloe decides to fight Beca’s teasing with...more teasing. “I'd rather just show you."

Beca raises an eyebrow, taken aback by Chloe’s boldness, but is enjoying every moment of it, particularly when Chloe pushes her back into the mattress again and hovers over her, flicking her gaze between Beca’s eyes and lips, not yet sure of her plan of attack, until...she is.  She lowers herself on to the brunette’s body and Beca grunts softly at the feel of Chloe’s gentle weight, the way their bodies seem to just...fit. Her arms wrap around Chloe, pulling her close, but Chloe slips free. She’s on a southward mission, leaving slow, languid kisses down Beca’s body between her breasts and across her stomach. She dips her tongue into Beca’s belly button, her nose hitting Beca’s stomach with every breath the brunette takes, and she inhales.  Undoubtedly Chloe misses Beca’s physical presence when they’re apart, but she also misses the intangible things -- the smile Beca reserves only for her, the one that makes her nose crinkle; the way Beca unconsciously hums when she’s only truly happy; and Beca’s scent. It’s not perfume -- Beca doesn’t wear perfume. Ever. Same for lotion. And, Chloe doesn’t think it’s her laundry soap, or even her bath soap. Beca always just smells like...Beca. Clean and fresh like grass after a spring shower, or crisp bed sheets that were hung on the clothesline to dry.  

Beca’s hand in Chloe’s hair derails the redhead’s train of thought  She moans softly, letting fingers tangle and tug as she nuzzles across Beca’s stomach, coming to a stop at her prominent hip bone.  She sinks her teeth into Beca, drawing a hiss from her -- pleasure mixed with a little pain. Even with Chloe bathing the soon-to-bruise with her tongue, they both know there will be a mark in the morning.  

Chloe kisses it gently and then smooths her fingers over it, looking up at Beca to make sure she’s OK. She finds the brunette looking down at her, eyes sparkling, hair mussed, her lips pinched between her teeth, trying to stop the beaming smile that wants to break out across her face.  “You’re beautiful, Beca.” 

Beca laughs a shy laugh as she throws an arm over her eyes to hide herself from Chloe, but it doesn’t really work. “I can still see you, you know? And you’re still beautiful.”

When Beca doesn’t move, Chloe smiles.  After a moment, “Hey Beca?”

Beca lets herself peek out from under her arm and looks at the other woman questioningly.  

“Don’t you want to watch?” Chloe asks and she continues to kiss down Beca’s body.  

Beca raises her head and props herself up on her elbows, only to collapse back into the pillows with a groan as she sees and feels Chloe’s warm mouth on her, kisses turning into nips all the way down and back up Beca’s sensitive inner thigh.  

Chloe places a soft kiss on Beca’s clit, which has Beca digging her heels into the mattress and writhing under her to escape the feelings -- physical and emotional -- that are pummeling her

She feels drunk even though she hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Her head is cloudy, and her stomach is...not nauseous, not queasy, but keenly anticipating the way the pure, undiluted pleasure will uncoil there and plummet to her feet when she comes.  Her limbs feel heavy, distant and out of her control. Luckily, Chloe is there to lift her leg, so she can reposition herself between Beca’s thighs and lick thoroughly at her pussy.

Beca presses her ankles into Chloe’s back and grips the sheets as she tries to tether herself to something, bracing for her release.  When Chloe feels Beca’s hips start to buck, she wraps an arm around each thigh, steadying her but, with one quick puff of air across Beca’s pulsing clit, she’s writhing again, rolling her body with each long stroke of Chloe’s tongue.

Once she has finished thoroughly mapping every inch of Beca’s pussy, Chloe buries two fingers inside. Her motions are painfully slow at first when all Beca needs is more friction to ignite and explode the tingling heaviness she feels between her legs, but she works up to a faster rhythm that opens Beca up even more. 

Now, three fingers curl and press into her, slightly twisting and turning until Chloe finds it -- that one sensitive spot that will make Beca lose all rational thought. She massages it gently, replicating how she rubbing Beca’s clit.  The sound Beca makes when Chloe touches her is animalistic. A growl from deep within Beca’s chest rumbles through her even more aggressively when Chloe adds her mouth back into the mix, humming across Beca’s pussy, the vibrations literally rattling the brunette’s self control.

Beca’s eyes snap shut as she takes a sharp breath in a fruitless attempt to steady herself and her trembling body. The sensation between her legs is overwhelming, and Chloe has to fight  against the tensing muscles in Beca’s thighs, holding her open so that she can continue to suck on her clit and pump her fingers. 

Beca’s pussy flutters around Chloe’s fingers. Next to her own orgasm, Chloe thinks this might be the best feeling in the world.  Without ceasing or slowing her movements, she raises her eyes to watch, in awe, as Beca comes. 

She’s fisting the sheets.  Her body tenses, as her pussy clenches around Chloe’s fingers, holding her inside while she rolls her hips over and over again  in time with the release that’s coursing through her. With one last, loud gasp of “Oh, god, Chloe. Oh!” Beca’s body wrenches from the mattress, her head dropping back so that the top is pressed into the pillow, and her body  contorting, succumbing to her climax. 

At a last half-groan, half-grunt of satisfaction mixed with exhaustion, Beca collapses onto the bed, flinching when Chloe slowly, carefully withdraws her fingers and crawls back up Beca’s body, until they’re eye to eye.  

Beca can’t look away when Chloe brings her hand to her mouth, tongue flicking out to taste Beca again and then dipping down to let Beca taste herself on Chloe’s lips. 

“Mmmmm, you like that, baby?” Chloe asks as she pulls her head back.  Beca only nods as her eyes start to close. 

Chloe heaves a contented sigh and curls into Beca’s side feeling a lazy arm drape over her waist.  She tucks her head into Beca’s neck as Beca grumbles, “‘M hungry.” 

“Sex and food," Chloe laughs. "You’re so primitive sometimes.”

“No, I just have my priorities straight.” 

“Nothing about you is straight, Beca.” 

“That’s it.  You’re buying dinner tonight.  I think I’ll have filet mignon.  Maybe two.” 

The laugh that bursts forth from Chloe is sweet and pure. It’s the sound of joy and Beca can’t help but join in.  Sure, she’s over the moon that Chloe is here with her for the next four weeks, but more than that, she’s happy that she has Chloe at all. 

XxxX

Chloe doesn’t remember when they fall asleep but, as her eyes flutter open, she realizes the slant of light coming into the room has shifted and dimmed significantly.  As if she needed another clue that the day has already faded into evening, her stomach rumbles and she feels Beca, who’s tucked into her side, start to tremble with laughter. 

“Worked up an appetite, huh, Chlo?” 

Chloe turns to her side, facing Beca and throws a leg over Beca’s hip, pressing herself into the brunette’s stomach.  “You could say that.” She very slowly starts to rub her still naked pussy on Beca -- she can feel the slight pressure of Chloe’s pubic bone above her belly button and she wraps her arms around her to pull her closer.  

“I can’t get enough of you,” Chloe breathes into Beca’s neck as she continues to rock her hips, and Beca almost loses all control.  “Chlo? Chlo,” she puts her hands on Chloe’s waist to still her. “Chloe, I would lie in bed with you all day if I could, but there is no food in this flat.  As much as it pains me to say it, we need to have some dinner.” She pauses. “I want to take you to dinner.” Her lips brush Chloe’s softly and she locks her gaze. “I want to take you on a date.” 

“A date?” Chloe flips on to her front and rests the top half of her body on Beca’s.  

“We haven’t really been on one together.  I mean…” Beca threads her finger through Chloe’s hair and in the rustle of sheets almost misses the quiet moan that slips from her lips.  “...we went to El Morocco, but that was with everyone. It’s never been…”Beca ducks her head to kiss Chloe. “....just the two of us.” 

Beca pulls back from the kiss to see that Chloe’s eyes are closed, but she’s smiling.  “Just the two of us. I’d like that.” 

“Good.  Then get your cute rear up and put some clothes on.”  Beca gives Chloe a tap on the butt and throws the blankets off them both, inviting a chill.  She tries not to notice the way Chloe’s nipples tighten and harden or the way her mouth wants to be on them even more than she wants dinner. 

XxxX

London being London, the air is cool and damp even though spring is approaching, and Beca loops her arm through Chloe’s to pull her closer as they walk.  

With personal space viewed much more liberally in Europe, along with the fact that friendly, affectionate gestures don’t seem to be as loaded with meaning or worse -- suspicion -- here, Beca and Chloe look completely unassuming amid the other couples strolling down the street arm in arm or even hand in hand -- all combinations of men and women.  Sometimes even in threesomes. 

Chloe releases a contented sigh.  In the fading evening light, she can just make out the strands of blue in Beca’s eyes and she wraps herself tighter around Beca’s arm.  “I love being like this with you. And here it’s just so much more relaxed. So much easier.” 

“We could be like this in New York, too, Chlo.  Just not on the Upper West Side. But we could get an apartment in the Village.”

“We?” Chloe stops to face Beca.  “You -- You think about things like that? With me?” 

Beca chuckles and tugs at Chloe to get her walking again.  “Yes, of course. Don’t you?”

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

Chloe slides her hands into Beca’s to soften the blow of what she’s about to say.  “No. I haven’t really thought about it.” 

Beca can’t control the way her mouth seems to gape, which Chloe anticipates, so she continues.  “I haven’t thought about it because I haven’t  _ let _ myself think about it.”

Beca’s brow is furrowed in consternation. 

“I never let myself see a future with anyone.  Not with any of the guys I dated because I didn’t  _ want  _ that, and not with any of the women I was with in part because we were young and in part because I didn’t see how it could ever happen.”  

She pauses and tries to read Beca’s expression.  She doesn’t look angry, but she also doesn’t seem to be comforted by anything Chloe’s just said.  “But mostly because I realized I wasn’t in love with them....

Chloe’s eyes soften as she looks at Beca.  “...The way I am with you. And…”

Beca watches the way her thumbs grace over the backs of Chloe’s hands, and she waits for her to finish her thought.  

“And I finally feel like I have a chance to get what I want.” 

“Which is...?” 

“You.  This.  A life together.  I -- “ 

Beca doesn't let Chloe say anymore. She’s heard all she needs to.  She surges forward, wrapping the redhead in her arms and kissing her hard. 

At this rate, they’re never going to get to dinner and, for as hungry as Beca is, hearing Chloe say that she thinks about their future, that she wants them to be together...well, if Chloe flew 3,500 miles only to tell her that, this trip would still be worth it and then some. As it is, Beca and Chloe have nearly four weeks together -- 28 days to feel what it will be like to be wives, to be domestic.  Even straight couples don’t really have that chance, at least not before they’re married.

Beca sighs into the kiss and wonders if Chloe knows just what she’s done -- whether this was all by design or just a happy accident.  Either way, Beca feels like all the pieces of her life have finally fallen into place, and Chloe Beale is at the center of it all. 

XxxX

Beca and Chloe spend the next few weeks in domestic bliss.  They while away the morning in bed, reading the newspaper, listening to records or talking, but mostly making love.  In short order she learns exactly where and how Chloe likes to be touched, much of which comes from experimentation, but Chloe’s not shy about telling her what feels good, which is freeing for Beca.  It takes the guesswork out of trying to figure out if Chloe prefers Beca’s mouth or fingers. If she’s being honest, she’ll tell you she specifically loves Beca’s tongue, but pretty much anything Beca does is a turn on.  And the same is true for Beca. All Chloe needs to do in the morning is make that cute little “squeak” when she stretches as she wakes up and Beca is instantly wet. Her response is nothing short of Pavlovian. She always knows where that will lead, usually because she is the one leading -- her lips to Chloe’s neck or to a particularly taut nipple before tongues and fingers are set into motion, caressing over arms, abs, thighs and of course, Chloe’s beautiful pussy.  Beca loves how she keeps it trimmed tightly enough that she can always see the tip of her clit peeking out from her folds. Much like the rest of Chloe, there’s something sexy -- yes -- and sweet about it that only serves to make Beca crave the redhead more. 

After a morning of being between Chloe’s legs, drawing the most delicious little moans and coos from her, and then making her come -- sometimes twice, sometimes more -- Beca has to burst their bubble, leaving the flat for rehearsal after a bit of tea.  She’s almost always back by four, during which time, Chloe busies herself tidying up the kitchen, doing their laundry and finally, preparing dinner. Beca loves coming home to the sight of Chloe humming along to one of her records and swirling her hips as she stirs something delicious in a pot.  She’s pleasantly surprised to realize her girlfriend is quite the chef. 

On this particular evening, Chloe’s last in London, they meet up with Henry as they've done every Friday night for drinks, followed by more drinks, a late dinner at a pub, and then wherever their libidos take them.  Over the past few months, Beca has grown to like Henry even more, just as one might like a sibling. Theirs is a teasing, taunting relationship, but it’s all in good fun. Undoubtedly Beca appreciates what Henry is doing. It’s a risk for all involved -- she knows that, and she respects that he’s taken it on without any complaints.  In fact, he’s fallen into the role quite easily -- perhaps a little too easily, Beca worried in the beginning. But she’s come to realize that he’s simply a caring, affectionate person, much like Chloe, which is probably why they get on so well together. And she can’t deny that he takes wonderful care of Chloe, particularly in Beca’s absence, so he offers piece of mind where she might not otherwise have any.  

After too many sidecars to count, Chloe retreats to the ladies’ room, and Beca seizes her opportunity to pop the question -- that is, ask Henry to ask Chloe to marry him so that Beca can marry her.   

Beca returns to the table from the bar, carrying two gin & tonics.  

“Thanks, Beca,” Henry says, taking a swig before noticing the shift in Beca’s demeanor.  She’s fidgety. Unsettled. And he puts a hand over her forearm in comfort, as well as to get her attention. “Beca?  Are you all right?” 

Beca nods.  “I just -- I, um, I have to ask you a question.” 

“Of course.”

“OK.  How should I put this?” she runs a hand through her hair.

“Oh god, you’re not breaking up with Chloe, are you?”   

Beca’s laugh is nervous.  “No. Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually.” 

Henry looks at her puzzled, but waits patiently until she’s able to form the words.  

She takes a deep breath and exhales.  “Could I, uh, interest you in a wedding?”

“A wedding?  Whose?”

“Yours with Chloe.”

Henry breaks into a huge smile.  He couldn’t be happier for the two of them.  “You’re ready, huh?” 

Beca takes another deep breath, followed by a large sip of her drink.  “Yes.” 

“And you think she is too?”

“I think so.  We’ve spent the past month acting like it.  We read the paper, we have tea, I go to rehearsal, she makes dinner. It’s felt like we’re already very married, so why not make it official? I mean, I love her.”  She thinks for a moment. “God, do I love her. But…”

“But what?” 

“What if the Beales think it’s too soon for you to propose?”

Henry thinks.  “It’s fast, that’s for sure, but they really want to see Chloe married. If I’m being honest, I think they’ll be thrilled. They really like me, you know.”  

He glances at Beca for her reaction to his teasing and when he sees a small smile creep across her face, he winks at her.  Beca can only roll her eyes in faux annoyance as well as to stem the slight pang of jealousy that flares, knowing she won’t get to know the Beales the way Henry does.  “I can’t imagine why.”

In response, Henry shoves her playfully before she continues. “And what about your parents?”

“They love Chloe.  I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.  It’s less of a big to-do for the would-be groom.  “So, when are you going to propose?” 

“After Aubrey’s wedding.  I’m taking Chloe to the Hamptons.  It’s a secret. I’m giving her my grandmother’s ring.” 

“Wow!  So, what does this ring look like? Nice diamond?  Big diamond?” His eyes go wide and he rubs his hands together as if he’s about to dig in to a juicy steak.

“I don’t -- I don’t really know.  I just know that it is delicate and intricate and beautiful. Just like Chloe.”  

Henry smiles at the way Beca seems to swoon as she talks about Chloe.  “Look at you,” he says, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Quite the hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”  

Beca clears her throat, buying time until she can reign in her emotions and not sound so much like a lovesick school girl with a crush.  “The only thing that’s hopeless right now is you and this conversation. Chloe’s going to be back at any moment. Focus, Colbert. What’s your plan?  We have to be in sync on this.” 

“Gee wiz. Nervous are we?”

“Of course!  I’ve never even thought about proposing until I met Chloe.  Come to think of it, there are a lot of things I never thought I’d do until I met Chloe.”

“Please,”  he holds up a hand between them.  “No need to elaborate.” 

Beca looks up at him, shocked.  “What? No. No, I wasn’t -- not like that.” 

“If you say so,” he singsongs, and Beca reaches across the table to flick his nose, but Henry’s faster and grabs her hand before she can reach him. “When we get back to the city, I’ll look for a ring. I think it would be strange for me to propose with yours.”

Beca nods her agreement as she sits back down and starts to toy with the lime teetering on the edge of her glass.

“And while you’re still in the Hamptons, I’ll visit Mr. and Mrs. Beale to ask for Chloe’s hand.  Then, maybe she and I can go to El Morocco or something. I don’t know. God, I’m really glad I don’t have to plan an actual proposal.  It’s nerve-wracking.

“Tell me about it.” Beca leans over the table and, in a somewhat uncharacteristic move, wraps her arms around Henry.  “Thank you.” 

He picks up his glass and clinks it with Beca’s.  “Cheers!”

At that moment, Beca feels arms slipping over her shoulders and crossing over her chest, a warm body pressed against her back and the scent of Rumeur curling around her.  Henry smiles at the way Chloe’s eyes light up when she bends to kiss Beca’s cheek before sitting next to her. “So,” she takes a swig of the brunette’s drink. “what are we toasting?”

Beca shoots Henry a panicked look, but Henry, always the smooth talker, comes to her rescue. “To our last night in London and a lifetime full of firsts.” 

He winks and Beca exhales in relief, slipping her arm around Chloe’s waist and pulling her closer.    


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This probably should have been two chapters.  It’s action packed -- the only thing missing is Jason Statham and some really fast cars.  

If Aubrey is nervous, Stacie is nothing short of a mess.  Not only does she have to try to convincingly get through the fake ceremony, but today’s the day she’s committing to Aubrey and while that in and of itself isn’t worrisome, the pressure of having to navigate a dual life -- one in which Aubrey is her very best friend and one in which she knows that Aubrey comes hardest when she’s on top -- is daunting.

All of those concerns, though, float away when Aubrey steps through the door of the room at the back of the chapel where they’re all getting ready for the ceremony.  She’s, of course, dressed in white and is, as most brides are, radiant, drawing an audible gasp from Stacie. Since it’s just the two of them, Beca and Chloe in the room, Stacie rushes to Aubrey. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

As much as she wants to kiss her bride, she knows she can’t. Hours upon hours have gone into her hair and make-up, and there’s no time for anything more than a touch-up, so Stacie’s urge to throw her down and have her way with her will have to wait. 

Aubrey takes a deep breath to steady herself, clasping her hand with Stacie’s and looks at the three women -- her three closest friends -- in front of her.  “You all look wonderful. Thank you for doing this with me.” 

“We wouldn’t be anywhere else, Bree,” says Chloe, reassuringly.

Just then there’s a knock at the door and Henry’s voice calls from the other side.  “Everyone decent?”

Beca slides her hand across Chloe’s back as she walks to the door and opens it.  “Well, if it isn’t the worst best man ever.”

Henry wraps an arm around Beca’s middle and playfully swings her out of his path, into the hallway.  She chases after him, laughing, as she closes the door behind them. 

“You ladies all look lovely.” 

Aubrey’s bridesmaids are dressed in pale blue with contrasting deep blue sashes that seem to dial up the saturation in Chloe’s eyes even further and bouquets of bright white ranunculus.

Henry wears a similar flower on the lapel of his black tuxedo.  “Is everyone ready?” 

Aubrey nods. “How’s Oliver?” 

“He’s surprisingly nervous about it all, but I think he’ll feel better once he sees you.” 

Henry opens the door and leads Aubrey outside and into the courtyard where she meets her father who will escort her back into the chapel and down the aisle.  

He then links arms with Stacie, winking at her.  “How are you doing?” 

“I’m...here,” she says.  “You?”

He takes a deep breath.  “Yeah, same. I just keep reminding myself that this means more to all of them,” he gestures to what is surely a chapel filled to the brim with Posen family and friends, “than to any of us.”  

Just then the organ music starts from inside and Aubrey follows her father’s lead.  As she does, she turns to Stacie and mouths “I love you.”

Stacie beams and winks back before glancing around nervously in hopes that no one has seen their exchange. 

As expected, the chapel is filled with many faces that Stacie recognizes and others she doesn’t.  It’s all dizzying, but Henry keeps a firm hold on her as he walks her down the aisle behind Aubrey.  They part when they reach the altar, Henry splitting off to the right and Stacie taking her place next to Aubrey on the left, followed by Chloe and then Beca. 

Once everyone is in formation, the pastor appears and Aubrey turns to hand Stacie her bouquet.  The actual alter space is tight to say the least, meaning the entire bridal party is pretty cozy.  Aubrey is so close to Stacie’s face that Stacie thinks they could kiss right here and put an end to this farce, but she knows full well, that would really only be the beginning of a gut-wrenching reality.

The ceremony flies by quickly, probably because Stacie is trying to focus on anything else but the exchange of rings, “I dos” and even kisses. 

“I now present to you for the first time in public, Dr. and Mrs. Oliver Wallace.”  It hits Stacie so hard in the gut that she has to will herself not to fold in half and crumple to the floor. For as much as she knows that she’s the one Aubrey loves, that love will never be public.  It will be hidden in shame and fear of reprisal from everyone -- their families, many of their well-to-do friends and even random strangers on the street who know nothing about them. 

Beca looks over to Chloe to see tears streaming down her face, the hand at her left side clasped in Stacie’s, squeezed white. She’s trying to hold Stacie up with the strength of five fingers and the knowledge that they’re all aching at what is supposed to be a joyous event.  Beca’s first instinct is to reach out and take Chloe’s hand in comfort, but she quickly retracts it when she remembers that Chloe’s parents are wedding guests, and she doesn’t want to arouse any suspicion or invite any speculation about the nature of their relationship -- especially when her proposal hangs in the balance.

XxxX

It seems like no time has passed at the reception before everyone is sufficiently sauced, thanks to a very generous open bar. 

In general, the Posens spared no expense for their only daughter’s wedding, which rivals their Halloween bash in terms of lavish excess, particularly when it comes to food and drink.  Beca can’t help but wonder how they’d feel if they found out they spent all of this money on a completely sham wedding. Her next thought is “They deserve it.” 

Chloe, Stacie, Henry and Oliver are swing dancing to the delight of a few of Aubrey’s younger cousin while Beca waits at the bar for the bartender to finish muddling a lime for whatever concoction Chloe is drinking.  Aubrey asked the five of them to stay somewhat sober until after dinner when they could sneak away for the second ceremony of the day, but Beca needs a drink to take the edge off her nerves, and she doesn’t like drinking alone. 

She turns to make her way back to the dance floor, when she catches Aubrey’s eye, signaling that it’s time for them all to make their escape, but she’s stopped in her tracks by none other than Arthur and Ann Beale.  

Aubrey tries to school her expression when she realizes that Beca is trapped and, more concerning, by whom, so that Chloe doesn’t panic.  But, as Aubrey ushers them out, Chloe quickly notices that Beca is missing. She needs only to follow Aubrey’s sight line to realize that Beca is conversing with her parents. 

“How did that happen?” 

“They just walked up to her.” 

Oliver, Henry and Stacie are staring with their mouths agape, drawing more attention to it than otherwise necessary. 

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. Arthur Beale and this is my wife Ann.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Beca says returning Arthur’s strong handshake. “Beca Mitchell.” 

“We saw you with our daughter, Chloe, earlier.  Tell us, how do you two know each other?” asks Mrs. Beale.

To Beca’s admittedly paranoid ears, Mrs. Beale’s -- probably -- innocent attempt at making conversation sounds like an outright accusation, and Beca swallows hard as she quickly tries to remember if there’d been any inappropriate or even suspect contact between she and Chloe over the last few hours. 

But before Beca can satisfactorily account for the proximity of her hands to Chloe’s body throughout the day, Mr. Beale interrupts. 

“Beca Mitchell.  Why do I know that name?” he asks, turning to his wife.

“I’m, um, not sure,” says Beca, already on edge and inwardly panicking.  She doesn’t know in what scenario Chloe would have mentioned her to her parents, and she doesn’t have a plausible cover at the ready. 

Arthur’s eyebrow arches and he looks Beca up and down as if he can sense something is afoot, and it’s then that Beca feels a familiar, calming presence approach.  “Mother, Dad,” Beca exhales in relief at the sight of Chloe. “I see you’ve met Beca. She’s the one who showed me all over London while poor Henry had to work.” 

“Beca, yes!” A light of recognition goes off in Mrs. Beale’s eyes.  “So lovely to meet you and thank you so much for taking care of our dear Chloe.” 

“Yes, thank you, Beca.  She enjoyed her trip very much.” 

Beca tries to suppress her smirk as she thinks about what the Beales would say if they knew precisely why Chloe enjoyed her trip.  Surely it had nothing to do with the orgasms upon orgasms she gave their daughter or the way she cried Beca’s name when she came.

“Beca dear,” says Mrs. Beale, breaking Beca from her thoughts. “How long have you lived in London?  It must be so exciting.” 

“I’ve been there for three years now, and yes, it’s lovely. ”

“Very good, and I think if I recall, you’re quite the musician, isn’t that right?”  Mr. Beale chimes in. 

“Well, I -- ” Beca scratches the back of her neck nervously.   She doesn’t want to brag but -- 

“Beca can play 13 different instruments. She’s quite talented with her, uh, hands…”

Beca has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing, and a quick glance at Chloe suggests she’s on the verge of the giggles as well.  Smartly, Chloe puts a quick end to the conversation. 

“And I’m sure she’d love to tell you all about it, but I’m afraid I have to excuse us both.  Aubrey needs us for a few pictures outside.” 

“Oh yes, of course,” Mrs. Beale waves them away.  “Don’t let us keep you from the blushing bride.”

Chloe grabs Beca by the wrist and starts to lead her to the exit, but Beca pulls back to shake Mr. and Mrs Beale’s hands again. “Lovely to meet you both. I hope we can continue our conversation later in the evening.”

When they’re safely out of sight, “Chloe, what was that? That comment about being talented with my hands?  Really?”

Beca tries to stare down the redhead, but can’t hold a stern gaze for too long before Chloe bursts out laughing, forcing Beca to do the same.  

They settle only when a stern-looking Oliver peeks around the corner and stage whispers, “What are you two doing? My fake wife wants to marry her real wife, and we don’t have a lot of time before everyone notices that nearly the  _ entire  _ bridal party,  including the bride and groom, has gone missing. Now, hurry up, will you?”

His scolding makes the two women break out into laughter all over again as they follow him down the hall and downstairs to another room in the Posen mansion, where Aubrey and Stacie stand hand-in-hand, waiting. 

“Found them,” Oliver says, walking over to Henry to drape an arm around his shoulders. 

“Everything OK?” asks Stacie.  “We saw the Beales corner you.” 

“It was fine,” Beca assures.  “Until this one,” she hitches a thumb over her shoulder at Chloe, “Decided to tell them I was good with my hands.” 

Oliver, Henry and Stacie start to laugh almost as hard as Chloe did a moment ago.  Thankfully, Aubrey sees Beca’s point of view.

“Chloe, what were you thinking!?”

“Thank you, Aubrey.  I asked her the exact same thing.” Beca turns to Chloe.  “Well, Chloe?” 

“I don’t -- I don’t know.  It just came out,” she says, trying to suppress a giggle. “But don’t worry.  They didn’t pick up on it. Beca was her polite and charming self and everyone made it out alive.”

Beca rolls her eyes. 

“Good, so let’s get on with it, shall we?” asks Stacie, who reaches a long arm out to snag Aubrey around the waist and pull her into her side. 

“Yes, please,” Beca says, somewhat relieved that the attention has moved off her and, if she really thinks about it, that her first meeting with Chloe’s parents is officially over. And didn’t go  _ too  _ terribly.  She smiles to herself and pulls Chloe to stand in front of her, wrapping her arms around her middle as they watch their second wedding ceremony of the day -- this one for real. 

When the officiant finally pronounces Stacie and Aubrey, Chloe turns around to Beca with a happy smile, but tears are again streaming down her face, and Beca knows; knows Chloe is thinking about when it will be them up there, risking it all and pledging their lives -- the good and the bad -- to each other.   

Beca pulls Chloe to her, arms crossed behind her back holding her tight. “I love you, you know that, right?” 

She watches Chloe’s eyes flit down to her lips before she winds a hand through soft red waves, pulling her close, and pressing her lips against Chloe’s soft mouth, their tongues seeking and finding each other before slowly retreating again.  It’s when Chloe sighs and her whole body relaxes in Beca’s arms that Beca has her answer. 

XxxX

The story isn’t a complex one:  Aubrey and Oliver are honeymooning in Niagara Falls.  Chloe and Henry are vacationing in the Hamptons with some of Henry’s friends.  Stacie is taking an anatomy class to prepare for the next semester of school, and Beca is apartment hunting in preparation for her move back to New York. 

The reality isn’t much more complicated, but there’s the important matter of keeping the story straight for a group that decidedly isn’t.  Aubrey and Stacie leave the wedding separately, but meet outside the city to go to Niagara Falls together. Oliver and Henry return to the city, and Beca finds Chloe on the train to the Hamptons, as planned. She sits next to her quietly, as if they were strangers, but keeps Chloe’s hand tucked in hers the entire time, stroking her fingers, and Chloe can’t suppress the smile that spreads across her face. Beca’s other hand fumbles with the ring box in her pocket and she can’t wait to be the thing that puts that look on Chloe’s face for the next 60 years or more. 

Mr. Irvine is at the station to greet them.  Beca telegraphed well ahead of time and asked him to have the house ready, including provisions for an evening picnic on the beach.  He’s well aware of what Beca’s about to do and winks at her when Chloe glances wistfully across the platform at the ocean. 

It’s late in the evening when they arrive at Beca’s beach house.  Mr. Irvine helps the girls with their luggage and bids them a quick good night.

Beca falls back into the couch with a relaxed sigh and Chloe follows, smiling, her chiffon blouse billowing out behind her as she sits astride Beca. 

“You looked beautiful today,” says Beca, her fingers teasing the skin under Chloe’s shirt. 

Chloe pouts.  “Just today?” 

“Every day.” She pokes Chloe’s side.  “Don’t do that. Don’t fish for compliments.”  

“I just have to make sure.” 

“Of what? That I think you’re the most gorgeous star to have ever fallen out of the sky?”

Beca’s voice is low and it does something to Chloe over and above the flattery.  She flushes and ducks her head, suddenly shy. Beca laughs to herself as she tucks a strand of red behind Chloe’s ear.  They stare at each other for a moment in silence, just absorbing the feel of finally being alone together, remembering how it felt in London to be there in each others’ space without worry of being interrupted, seen or otherwise questioned. 

It’s when their chests start to heave with anticipation that Beca can’t stand not touching Chloe any longer.  More than a month has flown by since London, since they were together, and Beca is practically aching for Chloe.  

She hooks her arms under the redhead’s thighs and pitches forward to stand up from the couch, throwing Chloe off balance.  The threat of tipping backwards is enough for Chloe to throw her arms around Beca’s neck to keep herself upright, bringing their bodies closer together, as Beca carries her to the bedroom. 

Chloe doesn’t take her eyes off Beca as they walk down the corridor.  And Beca is staring right back at Chloe. She’ll admit that somewhere in the back of her head, she’s thinking about ravaging the woman in her arms, but when her legs hit the bed, she lies Chloe down on the duvet oh so gently, cradling her head with one hand and supporting her back with the other, as if she were a sleeping child.  

“Beca,” Chloe says reverently, reaching up to take her face in her hands, still not breaking her gaze.

Beca quirks an eyebrow in question and opens her mouth to speak, but Chloe grips her biceps and flips them so Beca is suddenly on her back. She expects to feel Chloe’s weight on her, but instead the bed dips. 

When she props herself up on her elbows, she’s greeted with the sight of Chloe slowly  unbuttoning her blouse. Chloe’s watching Beca watch her, watching her gaze slip from her eyes to her chest and back again, and after about the third time Chloe laughs, breaking Beca out of her trance as she fumbles for an apology.

“I’m sorry.  I’m -- It’s -- “ 

“Beca,”  Chloe rests a hand on her thigh.  “You don’t have to be such a gentleman, you know? You can look. It’s OK.”  

Beca looks up at Chloe, blinking slowly, and licks her lips.  

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”  Chloe asks as she pops the last button and slides the blouse off her shoulders.

Beca watches it float like a leaf to the ground before her eyes return to Chloe’s body to find her fingers unclasping the hook on her pants.  Rather than let gravity do its job, Chloe holds each side of the waistband and guides them slowly down to the floor, Beca’s eyes following as Chloe steps free one foot at a time.  

Chloe’s naked before her, save for a bra and pair of high-waisted tap pants, and Beca can’t hold out any longer.  She pushes herself upright and brings her hands to Chloe’s hips, feeling the silk under her fingers as she presses wet, open-mouth kisses against Chloe’s taut stomach, which contracts every time Beca breathes out against it.  

Chloe tangles her hands in Beca’s hair holding the brunette to her.  She throws her head back at the feel of soft lips and a soft tongue on her skin, followed by a finger that hooks into the front of her panties, dipping the front just under her bellybutton. Getting the hint, she tips Beca’s chin up, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before taking a small step back, out of Beca’s reach. 

Beca leans forward to chase, but Chloe presses a hand into her chest, stopping her and holding her in place.  With the other hand, she reaches around and unhooks her bra. The straps slip over her shoulders, stopping at her elbows and Chloe frees herself from it, one arm at a time, keeping a restraining hand on Beca.  It’s then that she pauses, allowing herself to be the object of Beca’s gaze. She’s close enough that she can feel Beca’s breath on her chest, puffs of air tightening her nipples, but she’s just a hair out of reach for Beca to do what she really wants and put her mouth on Chloe.  

Instead, Chloe distracts her by hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and working them past her hips.  This time, she simply lets them drop to the floor. She knows Beca’s eyes are trained on the tight triangle of hair between her legs and while she wants to so badly for Beca to fuck her, she wants even more to drive her crazy. 

She’s never touched herself in front of anyone before, but no one knows her and her body like Beca does.  She doesn’t trust anyone the way she trusts Beca. And no one loves her and cherishes her like Beca. So, she doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t feel ashamed when, standing before Beca, she parts her pussy lips and presses the pad of her middle finger to her clit, rubbing it in slow circles. 

While Chloe’s quite sure her little strip tease got Beca worked up, she didn’t realize how much it had turned her on as well.  When her finger slides over her clit for the first time, she flinches at the sensation, her breath already becoming ragged. 

“Chloe,” Beca is transfixed and can barely rasp out her thought.  “Chlo. C’mere.” 

Chloe drags her finger through the soft, soaked creases of her pussy and brings her finger up to her mouth to lick it clean, never once taking her eyes off Beca. 

“Oh, god,” Beca withers as she watches Chloe taste herself, watches Chloe take a step forward, and she can smell the sex radiating from her. 

Beca slides forward on the bed, arms reaching around Chloe to pull her close enough so that she can duck her head to fit in between Chloe’s legs.  But before she does…

“Now it’s your turn to watch.”   With that, Beca extends her tongue, letting the tip meet Chloe’s clit.  Chloe’s head drops and she can’t look away as Beca rolls it again and again, faster or slower depending on how intensely Chloe trembles at the touch, making it harder and harder as she does.  

When Chloe can’t hold out any longer, she thrusts her hips forward to encourage more friction against her pussy, but Beca doesn’t give her that satisfaction.  Instead, she places a soft kiss on her clit and backs up onto the bed, taking Chloe’s hand in hers and pulling her on top. 

She’s relieved when she’s finally comes to rest over Beca and can grind into her thigh, which Beca tolerates only for a mere few seconds before she grips Chloe’s shoulders and rolls her on to her back.

Just as quickly, Beca twists in the opposite direction and stands up with the intent of divesting herself of her clothes, but when she notices Chloe staring intently, nibbling her bottom lip, she slows down her movements, giving Chloe time to take in every inch of skin that’s revealed.

It’s not clear when Chloe’s hand slips between her legs and Beca wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for the sudden shift of her hips that catches her eye.  Now, she can’t look away from the way Chloe is rubbing herself. Her head is tipped back into the pillow, lips parted as Beca crawls her way to the center of the bed to be closer to the redhead.  

Chloe’s breathing is heavy as she reaches up to pinch her nipple.  Beca’s not sure if it’s for her benefit or if Chloe is lost in the moment, but she makes every effort not to disturb her, never taking her eyes off her hands, as she slides her body down the length of Chloe’s right side, stopping only when her mouth is even with Chloe’s ear.  

“Show me,” she rasps, her breath hot on Chloe’s neck as she turns her head to watch goosebumps flood her skin and her nipples tighten as she shivers.  “Show me what you do when I’m not here next to you.” When she turns back, she’s met with Chloe’s mouth on hers. She feels the sting of teeth on her bottom lip before Chloe’s soft tongue flicks out to soothe over it.  

Beca rolls further into Chloe’s side, the force of her kiss pushing Chloe into the pillow.  Chloe’s hand, the one that was on her nipple, is now threaded through Beca’s hair, pulling her closer into a deeper kiss, and Beca moans as Chloe’s tongue wraps around her own.  The vibration shoots all the way down Chloe’s spine ending at her hips which roll down, bearing into the mattress. 

They continue to kiss as Beca’s right hand finds Chloe’s right arm, and she smooths down the length of it until her fingers brush over a tuft to find Chloe’s fingers.  She mirrors the motion she finds there, feeling how sensitive Chloe is when Beca presses into her, wrenching the redhead's back off the bed and hearing her hiss with pleasure. 

Beca retracts her hand, content for the moment in watching Chloe touch herself the way only she knows how, but Chloe doesn’t allow her to remain still for too long.  She spreads herself further, draping her right leg over Beca’s and retracts her hand, joining it with Beca’s and pulling them both back down together. 

Under Chloe’s grasp, Beca’s fingers sink into warm, wet flesh that is softer and silkier than it has any real right to be. She follows as Chloe guides her fingers to scissor her clit.  

“Oh my God,” Beca breathes, pulling away from Chloe's lips, as her middle finger strokes Chloe's pussy, revealing how wet and swollen she is.

Beca feels more than sees Chloe smile at the discovery, “This. This is what I do when I imagine us together,” Chloe whispers. “But the reality is so much better.”

Chloe guides Beca's hand further down, Beca's middle finger immediately slipping and curling into Chloe.  “I love having you inside me,” Chloe moans, followed by indiscernible whimpers as she presses herself into their joined hands, but Chloe needs more.  It's not long before Beca feels another finger slip in beside hers as Chloe increases the rock of her hips.

Beca knows two things about the scene that is unfolding before her.  First, she wants to be deeper inside Chloe and second, she wants to make Chloe come hard.

Without losing the rhythm of her thrusts, she turns her hand so that she can top Chloe, taking all of her in.  Her eyes are squeezed shut and her lips are pressed together, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and chest.  Even though her face is contorted, Beca thinks she looks incredibly beautiful, writhing under her.

Her mouth drops to Chloe's neck, suckling the skin there and trailing down to the curve of her breast. She takes Chloe's right nipple softly between her teeth, grazing it, flicking at it with her tongue and loving the grunt it pulls from her.  She turns her head to the left, licking the skin in between Chloe's breasts before finding her other nipple that is already erect from the stimulation of its twin. When Beca puts her mouth on it, Chloe lets a particularly keening cry escape, as her hips push up into Beca's, and Beca knows she's close.

She gently releases Chloe's nipple, giving a gentle kiss to the tip.  “Come for me, Chlo.”

Chloe bears down and Beca pushes deeper inside the redhead, long strokes giving way to short, quick thrusts, Chloe moaning louder with each one until their fingers are constricted, barely able to move.

Beca can feel Chloe's pussy tighten around her.  Her clit is literally throbbing against the palm of her hand.  She knows she needs only to press down on that spot inside Chloe, the one that’s hidden away, to make her see stars.

Chloe has her head turned away from Beca, her left hand gripping the pillow; even in the dark, Beca can see the glow of her white knuckles.  Her breathing is rapid, like she just ran a race, and if she weren't so deep inside her girlfriend right now, she might think Chloe was in pain, but she knows better.

Chloe's pussy clenches even harder around their fingers and she rolls her hips, searching for release.  Beca takes control. She wants Chloe to come on her terms, so she guides the woman's finger next to hers to press down  _ right there _ , while Beca's thumb works Chloe's clit at the same pace.  

It only takes another stroke or two before Chloe’s orgasm hits her hard. Beca's finger is forced from her, but before she can withdraw completely, Chloe clamps her thighs shut around the brunette's arm and writhes away from Beca almost tossing her like a rag doll.  

Beca is content to continue massaging Chloe's clit until she relaxes - her hips stop jerking, she stills on the mattress and she opens her eyes, flinching when Beca eases her hand out from between Chloe's legs.

It's only then that she realizes how soaked her underwear are or that Chloe is quickly dozing next to her. 

Her fingers still wet with Chloe, she dips her hand beneath her waistband and starts to rub her clit slowly, quietly so as not to disturb the woman next to her.  This will have to suffice for now. She has no doubt Chloe will return the favor tomorrow.

XxxX

Mrs. Beale really shouldn't be on 5th Avenue.  She only gets herself into trouble with her husband when a new dress from Saks or a new handbag from Bloomingdale's just happens to follow her home, but today, she has an excuse...one that she doesn't really want to have.  One that she wishes would have put her in any other part of the city at this moment.

As she's about to go into Saks to return the dress she didn't wind up wearing to the Posen wedding, she spots a very unlikely couple strolling down the street, arm in arm: Henry and Oliver.

It takes Mrs. Beale a moment to be certain that it’s really them, since she knows Henry is supposed to be in the Hamptons with Chloe and she thought Oliver would be well on his way to Niagara Falls with Aubrey.  

As they get closer, she’s certain it’s them -- she’d know Henry’s laugh blindfolded.  Thankfully, doesn’t think they see her. She’s able to duck her head when they look in her direction before crossing the street.  Once they’re a safe distance away, Mrs. Beale lets herself panic. Should she tell Chloe? But Chloe must know -- where would he say he was going and why he was leaving?  Unless of course they had a fight, but Henry didn’t look particularly distraught. He seemed quite pleasant. Happy even. Perhaps she should ring Mrs. Posen and ask if Aubrey is all right -- out of concern of course, but also because she’s curious and a little nosy.  Maybe she should try to catch up with them and confront them both, but what exactly would she say? All she does know is that if she just keeps talking to herself, keeps inventing scenarios, she will stumble upon one that makes sense -- one that definitely doesn’t remind her of the whispers they left behind in Atlanta.   Of course, it also means that she misses the distinct robin’s-egg blue bag that Henry is carrying, or that they were walking away from the Tiffany store. 

But try as she might, she can’t shake the scene from her head.  It stays with her all day. It hangs over her like a rain cloud, and Mr. Beale certainly notices when he comes home that evening.   She’s sat in the parlor, in their bay window looking out over the street, watching pedestrians run for shelter from a sudden summer storm, deep in thought, so she doesn’t hear her husband call her name, but she jumps when a hand clamps over her shoulder.

“Oh my -- Arthur!  You scared the daylights out of me!” 

“I’m sorry, darling.  I was calling your name, but you didn’t answer.” He pecks her cheek, and when he pulls away, he notices her furrowed brow and pursed lips.  “What is it? Is it Chloe? Is she all right?” He grips her forearms and searches her face for an answer. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Arthur, sit down.  I have something...I have some news.” 

He sits on the piano bench facing his wife and waits, watching, searching her face as she fumbles with her trembling hands. 

“I saw Henry today.” 

“Chloe’s Henry?  Henry Colbert? But isn’t he...did they come back to the city early?”  Mr. Beale is clearly trying to fit together the puzzle his wife has presented to him without all the necessary pieces. 

“Chloe wasn’t with him…”

“All right,” he says calmly, hesitantly, not really sure of the path she’s headed down.

“...But Oliver was.” 

“Oliver?  You mean Aubrey’s --?” 

Mrs. Beale nods.

“But isn’t he -- I’m sorry,” Mr. Beale pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.  None of this is making any sense. Aren’t Oliver and Aubrey supposed to be on their honeymoon?”

“I thought as much.”

“And isn’t Henry supposed to be with Chloe in the Hamptons?” 

“You don’t think --?”

“No.  No, I definitely don’t think that, Ann. As far as I can tell, Henry and Chloe are smitten with each other.”  Mr. Beale is pacing the floor. “There has to be some sort of an explanation. We just have to wait until Chloe gets home to -- “ 

The doorbell rings, but Mr. Beale is too deep in thought to react as quickly as Mrs. Beale.  It’s only when she announces the visitor that Mr. Beale looks up from the now well-worn path in the carpet that he created.

“Henry?”  

XxxX

“Beca?  Chloe enters the kitchen to find food scattered across the counter -- cheese, bread, fruit, cookies... “What is all this?”

“It could be a picnic dinner on the beach, if you like?”

“That sounds delightful.”  She wraps an arms around Beca’s waist and pulls the brunette closer, giving her a soft kiss on her lips.  “Anything with you is delightful.”

Beca pulls back from the kiss and smiles.  “That’s good to know,” she says before giving Chloe a quick peck and returning to packing up the food. 

“Can I help at all?” 

Beca shakes her head, “no.” 

Chloe bites her lip and takes a step behind Beca, pressing her front to Beca’s back and winding her arms around her middle.  “Does this help?” 

Beca can’t help but laugh, but that laugh quickly fades as she feels Chloe nuzzling that sensitive spot under Beca’s ear. “What about now?” 

As Chloe’s breath hits her neck, Beca feels her self control start to fizzle.  Her knees buckle and Chloe tightens the grip around her waist to hold her up. The press of their bodies together doesn’t do much to lessen Beca’s simmering arousal and neither does the fact that Beca can feel Chloe smile against her skin.  

Chloe knows what she’s doing, teasing Beca like this, knowing where and how to touch her, what to say to throw Beca’s concentration.  For a moment, Beca thinks she should retaliate. She could ask the big question right now and right now and completely floor Chloe, but she has a plan, a vision for the way tonight should go and everything that Chloe is trying to build up to isn’t supposed to happen until much later. 

Instead, Beca turns to face Chloe, peeling a hand from her body and intertwining their fingers -- a subtle move that she knows will distract and disarm Chloe.  

The plan works. As Beca presses their palms together and strokes her fingers, Chloe follows her willingly out the back door and on to the beach.  

The day’s early summer heat sill hangs in the air, but the sand is cool on their feet.  Beca watches Chloe wiggle her toes as Beca disconnects their hands so she can spread a blanket on the ground.  She sets the picnic basket down, but before she opens the top she turns to Chloe, “Hungry?” 

“Hmmm.  Not quite yet.” 

Beca smiles and reaches her hand out to find Chloe’s, which she does easily.  They’re like magnets. “Let’s walk then.” 

She leads them down to the water’s edge. The tide is starting to go out, leaving more beach between their feet and the gentle, lapping waves. Beca slips her free hand into her pocket and she feels it, cold and surprisingly heavy.  She smiles to herself, watching Chloe -- the gentle breeze in her hair as her blue eyes follow the gulls that swoop down into the water to fish for their dinner. 

They continue to walk in relative silence, communicating only with touches and caresses.  A squeeze of the hand here, the brush of a thumb on the inside of a wrist, the bump of shoulders -- the last of which tells Beca that Chloe is ready to head back to their blanket.  She flexes her fingers in acknowledgement and she’s suddenly very nervous for what she’s about to do. 

XxxX

“I’m sorry to come by uninvited, and I hope I’m not interrupting,” says Henry, removing his hat. 

“Come in, son,” Mr. Beale says, sounding somewhat weary. “Come in.”  

“Thank you, sir.  I won’t take much of your time, but I, um, had something I wanted to discuss with you.  With you both.”

He glances nervously at Mrs. Beale who reaches out to place a comforting hand on his forearm.  “Sit down, Henry,” she says, pulling him down onto the sofa. She didn’t like what she saw earlier today -- it made her stomach sink -- but she likes Henry.   She likes how happy Chloe seems with Henry and she is willing to hear him out. 

Mr. Beale, on the other hand, seems less willing to maintain an open mind.  Mrs. Beale knows it’s fear -- fear for his family, for his daughter and her reputation. 

“What can we do for you, Henry?”  he sighs out, wanting to get whatever this was out in the open. 

Henry doesn’t answer.  He simply pulls a blue Tiffany box from his pants pocket and opens it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.  He can’t help but smile at the way Mrs. Beale gasps.

XxxX

It’s as if Chloe knows.  Maybe she doesn't know exactly what Beca is about to do, but Beca can feel that her girlfriend's demeanor has shifted, So, she unlinks their hands and begins soothingly rubbing her fingers across Chloe's palm as they make their way back to the blanket.

Beca sits, pulling Chloe down to sit in between her legs.  The sky full of pinks and oranges and purples reminds Beca of whatever frozen concoction Chloe was eating as they walked on boardwalk earlier today and she smiles at the memory -- how easy it was, it is, to be with Chloe.  Everything with her feels effortless, whether they're dancing at El Morocco or walking hand-in- hand down the beach at sunset. Even though Beca's nervous about asking Chloe this life-changing question, she knows Chloe will say yes.  She knows Chloe will make it easy. The only thing between them that's complicated and complex is actually being together, but she also has no doubt they can figure it out. If Oliver and Henry can do it, if Aubrey and Stacie have made it work, there's no reason they can't have this too.  She and Chloe deserve to be happy as much as they do.

She takes a deep breath, and Chloe's hands, which are resting over Beca's, squeeze as if to calm her girlfriend.

Beca kisses Chloe's temple and sighs.  “Chloe?”

Chloe only hums her reply from where her head rests back on Beca’s shoulder, and Beca turns her slightly to look at her, trying to talk herself into just getting on with it.  After a few seconds, she takes a deep breath and gently nudges Chloe up and off her so she can bring herself up to her knees. 

The shuffle behind her makes Chloe turn around.  If she’s being honest, she’s a little annoyed that her comfort has been disrupted and she eyes Beca, who’s fumbling around in her pocket.  

“Beca, what are you --?” 

Beca leans forward, her hands on Chloe’s shoulders and kisses her lips.  “Please, just let me do this.” 

“OK, OK.” Chloe, says quietly, holding her hands up in mock defense.  

Her fingers settle on the ring in her pocket and she smiles, which Chloe mirrors.

“Chloe, I, uh, I know we haven’t known each other long, but I think you know that I like you.  I mean, a lot. I mean, I love you.”

“I love you too, Beca,” Chloe giggles sweetly -- a sound that is abruptly cut short and replaced by a gap when Beca reaches out and softly grips her left hand.

“And I’d be honored and grateful if you let me love you for the rest of our lives.”   

Chloe searches Beca’s face as if she can’t quite figure out what is happening. Or she knows, and can’t believe it.  Or she knows and is completely repulsed. Beca shakes that last thought from her head and continues. “I’d like it if we could be wives.” 

She takes a breath, pleased that she got it all out, but then Beca realizes what she’s done.  She sits back on her haunches and drops her hand, shaking her head, with a small, slightly embarrassed smile on her face. “Sorry.” 

Chloe cocks her head to the side as if she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.  

“Sorry, I just realized that -- I didn’t mean to make it rhyme.  Lives. Wives.” 

Chloe’s laugh is watery. “It’s OK, Beca, I didn’t even notice. 

“Good.  That’s good.  I guess what I’m trying to say, officially, in case it wasn’t clear,” Beca pulls the ring out of her pocket, her eyes never leaving Chloe’s, which are starting to fill with tears that make them look more blue than she can ever remember, “is, ‘Chloe, will you marry me?’” 

XxxX

Mr. Beale chuckles both in relief and at his wife.  “Ann, he’s not proposing to you. You know that right?” 

Henry looks up at Mr. Beale somewhat relieved that the tension is broken, but before he can say anything, Mr. Beale grips his biceps and pulls him up into a manly hug.  “Yes, son. I think I speak for my wife…” He looks over Henry’s shoulder at his wife, who is wiping at the tears streaming down her face “...when I say we’d be happy to have you as part of the family.”

XxxX

Chloe doesn’t give Beca an answer.  Well, she does if taking Beca’s face in her hands and kissing her soundly is an answer.  Kissing her all the way down to the sand, until Chloe is on top of her, her fingers winding through brunette hair and her tongue gently slipping in between parted lips as Beca sighs into the content.  Her arms wrap around Chloe, wanting her closer so that there’s no space in between them. 

They kiss until the sky changes from pastel to deep purple, until they’ve used up all the available oxygen around them, Chloe resting her forehead against Beca, her eyes fluttering open only to find Beca staring back at her, searching her face for what all this means. She quirks an eyebrow at Chloe in question, hoping to get a once and final answer. 

“Of course, Beca.  Yes!” 

Beca can’t control the smile that spreads across her face.  She rolls them, pinning Chloe’s hips to the ground with hers.  And the giddy squeal that escapes Chloe scatters the few seagulls that are staking out their picnic basket into the sky.    

XxxX

“Thank you, sir.  Thank you.” Henry turns to Mrs. Beale.  “Thank you _. _ “I promise that I’ll take good care of your daughter for as long as we live and -- ”   __

Mrs. Beale can’t contain it anymore.  She’s so chock full of emotion -- relief, joy, pride, love and about a thousand others that she can’t name -- that she jumps up and wraps Henry in a huge hug, placing kisses all over his face.  He can see where Chloe gets it and he laughs, relieved as well. 

“Mrs. Beale, please.  I want to make sure you both know that -- ,” he swallows hard because he knows he needs to sell this, but his stomach twists at the thought of having to act out this lie to two, very lovely yet very unsuspecting people.  “I love Chloe very much. I won’t let her want for anything and I’ll do everything I can to make her happy. You’ve raised a beautiful, wonderful woman, who I cherish, and -- “

“Son,” Mr. Beale holds up a hand.  “You really don’t need to convince us anymore than you already have.  We’ve said yes.”

“And thank you Sir, but I had a whole speech rehearsed.  I’ve been so nervous to do this and Oliver spent all day with me today, coaching me.  He’ll kill me if I don’t do this exactly as we planned.” 

“Oliver?  But, isn’t he with Aubrey on their honeymoon?”  Mr. Beale raises an eyebrow at his wife. He knows she knows exactly what she’s doing asking the question and her efforts don’t go unrewarded. 

“Well, um, yes, but I really wanted to get this right.  I really wanted you both to say ‘yes,’ and so I asked for his help.  Since Aubrey still had family in town from the wedding, they agreed they’d start their honeymoon a day later so he could go with me to find a ring and, um, talk me through this. And Aubrey was able to spend time with her aunts and cousins from Boston.  So it all worked out.” 

Mr. Beale claps a hand over his shoulder.  “I would say it did, Son.”

XxxX

Beca lies on her back next to Chloe as Chloe raises her left hand, her right thumb smoothing over the stone. 

“It was my grandmother’s.  Well, the setting at least.  The diamond is yours. Do you...do you like it?”

“I love it.  I love you.” Chloe turns her head to find Beca’s lips waiting and a hand that reaches across to cup her jaw as a thumb lovingly strokes her cheek.  “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“That we’re getting married or that we’re lying on the beach in the dark making out like teenagers?”  

“Well, both.  But really the marriage part.”  She pauses.

Out of curiosity, Beca props herself up on her elbows and watches as Chloe plays with the hem of Beca’s sweater.  She can read the concern on Chloe’s face and she stills her hand, flattening it with hers across her stomach. “He’s probably talking to your parents right now, asking for their permission.” 

Chloe looks up at Beca, surprised that she knew exactly what was in her head. “But how? He’s supposed to be here with me.” 

“The plan was to tell them that he told you he had an emergency at work and had to come back to the city.  Everything’s handled, Chlo. He and I worked it out.” Beca brushes a strand of hair from her face and bends forward to kiss her forehead.  She can feel the relief wash over her. “He’ll have a ring for you too. I’m not sure if he showed it to your parents or not -- “

“Seriously? My mother probably begged him to try it on.”

“Well, if he did, you should probably wear that one so there’s no confusion.” 

“But Beca -- “

“No, Chloe, it’s just safer that way.  There’s no room for mistakes now.” Beca sits up and reaches a hand into the picnic basket.  “But I definitely have room for a sandwich. 

Chloe looks at her with a questioning eyebrow.  

“What?” Beca retorts.  “Proposing made me hungry. Now come here and let’s have our first dinner together as fiancees.” 

XxxX 

“Henry, would you like to join us for dinner?  It’s no trouble to set another place. And I think  I’ve made enough food for a family of twelve.” 

“I would love to, Mrs. Beale,” he runs a hand through his hair.  “But I have to get back to the Hamptons. I, um, I had to lie and tell Chloe that I had an emergency meeting at work so that I could come and see you.  I don’t think she believed me and I don’t want to her to be upset. Plus, I still have a very important question to ask her tonight,” he winks and taps the ring box.   “Which reminds me,” he looks at his watch. “I should be going if I want to catch a six o’clock train.” 

He walks to the door, his hand on the knob before he’s pulled into another hug.  “Oh, Henry,” Mrs. Beale beams, “We’re so happy for you both.”

“Congratulations, Son.” Mr. Beale shakes his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Beale.  Mrs. Beale, for being so...wonderful.  Chloe and I are very lucky.”

“There you go,” Mrs. Beale, as she bundles Henry out the door.  “Go now and get back to your soon-to-be fiancee.”

Once the door closes behind him, he breathes a sigh of relief and turns to walk down the block.  He’s halfway to the street when a hand reaches out and yanks him into an alleyway. Before Henry realizes it, soft lips are on his.  “How’d it go?” the voice says against his mouth.

“They believed every word.” 

“And?  What about earlier?” 

“She didn’t even have to ask the question.  I told her exactly what we rehearsed. That you were helping me with the proposal and Aubrey was spending time with her family.”

“Good.  God, I’m glad we saw her when we did.  That could have been really awkward.”

“Awkward?  Oliver, it would have been on the level of a Shakespearean tragedy.” 

“So dramatic. Lucky for you, I have an eagle eye. And I barely even know the woman.”

“True.  You do have sharp eyes, but I can think of other things about you that I like better.” He nips the skin at Oliver's neck.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes out as his eyes flutter closed. “Care to go to my apartment so you can show me what those are?”

“If you insist.”

Henry steps out of the alley, followed by Oliver.  The shift in their demeanor is evident as both glance up and down the street to make sure no one’s seen from where they just came.  They walk a comfortable distance apart -- much further than they were a moment ago -- so as not to invite any unwanted commentary. Or worse. 

XxxX

Beca doesn't remember Chloe ever feeling this good cuddled so tight against her, doesn’t remember her hair being this soft or the way her eyes flutter as she sleeps this adorable.  She doesn't remember ever feeling this at peace and she knows it's because of what she did last night. She has a feeling of confidence, of resoluteness and certainty that is grounded, rooted, weighted in her stomach.  If something -- anything...even just one hair -- were out of place, it would easily be confused with a feeling of dread. But in this case, Beca feels lighter. More contented than she's ever been. 

  
Chloe is able to do to her, for her, what only music had been able to do.  Relax her. Give her confidence. Set her apart from the crowd. Now, instead of lithe fingers and a pitch perfect ear, she has a bubbly, sexy redhead with the most vibrant blue eyes, and she'd gladly make the trade a million times over.

She smiles to herself.  From her place in bed, she only has to turn her head to the left to see the ocean and she’s almost lulled back to sleep, feeling the steady rise and fall of Chloe’s breathing next to her that seems to be timed to the breaking waves.  So she doesn’t notice that Chloe is awake until she feels a warm hand slink up her pajama shirt and a soft giggle against her collarbone. 

Beca turns her head as she claps her hand down on Chloe’s before it can travel any further north and she smiles a huge and radiant smile.  It’s then that Beca thinks she could live by the light in the redhead’s eyes, the breath in her lungs. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Making my fiancee feel good.  Unless you’d rather…” Chloe starts to withdraw her hand, but she freezes when she realizes Beca is unbuttoning her top.   Once Beca reaches the bottom hem, her hands fall back onto the mattress, allowing Chloe to slide her right hand into her shirt and curve around Beca’s rib cage.  Her left does the same with the other side of the shirt, and Beca is now laid bare before her.

“I can't quite decide what to do with you...to you,” Chloe says as she winks.

“I'm yours, Chlo, til the ends of the earth.  You can do whatever you want. I trust you.”

Chloe sighs as her eyes take up and down Beca's naked form.  Undoubtedly, she loves Beca, but she loves a trusting, submissive Beca even more.  

She props herself up on an elbow, the finger on her right hand tracing the brunette's hairline and down the bridge of her nose.  When the tip lands on thin pink lips, Beca parts them taking Chloe's fingers into her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around it, pulling a soft moan from Chloe.

Beca smirks and releases Chloe's finger, never leaving her gaze, as it travels down her neck and over her collarbone to her breast.  There, Chloe pauses to circle a nipple, while skillfully avoiding the stiff peaks. 

As Chloe continues her gentle caresses, making her way across Beca's stomach and down to her belly button, she starts to follow a similar path with her mouth, breathing in Beca’s scent as she nuzzles soft skin with her nose.  

Feather light touches and gentle kisses lull Beca into haze of arousal.  She can feel her breathing speed up and her heart start to race at the nearness of Chloe -- how tender and affectionate she's being.  But that's not really the surprising part. After all, “tender and affectionate” is Chloe's middle name. What takes Beca aback is how willing she is to give herself to Chloe, to be vulnerable with her.  She's never felt that before. It's entirely new, but it's not scary at all. Beca only feels full of love…

...and Chloe's hand on her thigh, skating over the sensitive skin there.  Beca doesn’t try to hide the heat radiating from her pussy and she braces herself, waiting for a touch that never comes.

Instead, Chloe uses her knee to part Beca's thighs so she can kneel between them.  When she drops forward, her hair curtaining them both, she gives Beca a kiss that makes her blush.  Chloe doesn't hold back. Her tongue finds Beca's and she draws it into her mouth, stroking it and caressing it before, peeling her lips away.  She sits back, takes a breath and pulls Beca up to meet her.

With Beca now kneeling on the mattress in front of her, Chloe wraps her arms around tight around her lower back. “Come here,” she beckons, and Beca drapes her arms over the redhead’s shoulders, Chloe holding her close.

“I never get tired of the way we fit together,” Beca whispers, looking down between them as she straddles Chloe's thigh.

Chloe tips Beca's chin up so she can look into grey-blue eyes.  “Does it make you wet when you see us like this?”

Beca says nothing.  She only lowers herself onto Chloe's thigh and starts to grind down.  Chloe's hands grip Beca's hips to help her rock, leaning into her and sucking at the skin on her neck.

Slowly, she licks and nips her way up to Beca's ear, breathing out, “Turn around.  Put your hands on the headboard.”

With one last, long suck of her earlobe, Beca turns her back to Chloe.  Almost instantly she feels Chloe's hard nipples press into her back as the redhead comes up to kneel behind her, hands on her breasts, squeezing.  Massaging.

Beca leans her head back on Chloe's shoulder, her hands gripping the sides of Chloe’s thighs to keep herself  steady. The redhead's hands slip down to Beca's stomach, to her hips, holding her in place while Chloe ravages her neck.

She withdraws her mouth after a particularly forceful suck that makes Beca hiss with pleasure.  Almost immediately a bruise blooms where her lips and teeth were. Chloe soothes over it with her tongue and brushes it lightly with a finger, admiring her work.  “Pretty,” she says before she returns her mouth to Beca, sending heat coursing throughout the brunette’s body, especially wherever Chloe is touching her.

For a moment, Beca chooses to just let Chloe bombard her senses -- the sound of her breath in her ear, the way her hair tickles Beca's shoulder, her warm, gentle lips seemingly everywhere at once, the way their bodies fit together, move together, and the feel of her breasts pressed into Beca's back.  So, she doesn't notice Chloe's hand slipping down between her legs, until Chloe cups her pussy and squeezes, making Beca's hips jerk in response.

Using her knee, Chloe spreads Beca's legs and, placing a firm yet loving hand between her shoulder blades, bends Beca's body slightly at the waist so her head rests on the headboard.

Her lips replace the hand at Beca's back, which curls around to her hip, fingertips pressing into the skin there, gripping to hold her in place as Chloe licks the fingertips on her other hand and begins to rub Beca’s pussy. 

The sounds Beca is making are driving Chloe crazy: rapid, breathy, “oohs” when Chloe swipes through wet folds, low groans when she tugs or rolls a nipple and -- Chloe’s favorite -- keening whines when she presses tight circles into Beca’s clit, rolling it in no particular pattern, sometimes with just the tip of her finger, sometimes with the pad  

“You like that?” Chloe asks, as she pulls the hood back to tease sensitive, swollen flesh.

Beca, rendered speechless by the way Chloe’s lithe fingers are manipulating her, can only nod and swallow hard.  It's when Chloe's other hand slips between her legs from behind that a whimper escapes Beca's lips.

She spreads her legs even further to accommodate Chloe.  “You're so wet, Bec. I could so easily --”

Beca feels Chloe slide inside her and she settles back to ride her hand.  She sets a breakneck pace, fucking her fingers -- one that makes it difficult for Chloe to manage any sort of rhythm on her clit, so she grips Beca's hip tighter, pulling her into her body, holding her in place so that she can make love to her the way she wants, can have Beca the way she wants, can bring her to orgasm the way she wants.

Chloe's forehead is pressed in between Beca's shoulder blades as Beca rocks against her hand, which is slick with the brunette's silky arousal.  Having Beca around her, riding her, is making Chloe feel a little light-headed with the intensity of this moment, and she has to fight hard the urge to withdraw one of the hands that is working Beca to taste her. It’s when Beca rolls her hips, pushing Chloe's hand flat, back against her thigh to provide more friction, that Chloe knows she doesn't want to be anywhere else.

She inhales Beca's shampoo...something clean and herbal mixed with the primal, heady scent of sex and she squeezes her own thighs together when she feels the wetness between her legs. “Oh fuck, Beca.”  She knows she'll probably wind up coming with Beca and is resigned to just let it happen.

And it happens faster than expected.  "Oh..oh, god. Yes, Chlo. Yes!” is Beca's response when Chloe twists her hand sideways, changing the angle of her fingers and hitting a sensitive spot -- although not  _ the  _ spot -- that makes Beca arch away from Chloe's touch.

She feels Beca's pussy walls start to tighten, tighten around her, slowly forcing her fingers out.  When Beca reaches down between her legs to hold Chloe in place, Chloe thinks she might lose it. She breathes deep against Beca's skin as Beca grinds down harder.  The hand across her lower belly tightens and Chloe's fingers press deeper inside Beca, massaging her contracting walls.

The muscles in Chloe's forearm pop as she continues to thrust, fucking Beca hard, every push met by an exasperated, exhausted grunt from the brunette, especially when she drops to all fours in front of Chloe, now able to push back into her, delivering the friction she needs to come.

Chloe helps her along by standing behind her, giving her more leverage to penetrate Beca even deeper and harder.  The knuckles on the top of her hand press into Beca's pussy adding a completely different sensation, while the fingers on her other hand continue to stimulate her overworked clit.

Suddenly, Beca drops her head, burying it in the pillow beneath her to muffle the cries as she comes, her hips jerking wildly and Chloe trying to follow her movements to stroke her down.

Chloe's own orgasm hits her.  Hard. Harder than expected Which is somewhat surprising since no one is touching her.  She drapes herself over Beca's back, rubbing herself against the back of her thigh and the globe of her ass to get herself to a release.

Beca collapses to the mattress with Chloe flopping  on her back. “Oh my God,” the redhead breathes and Beca smiles, half of it getting lost in the pillow cradling her head. 

“Which part?  The sex or the fact that we're engaged?” Beca asks, a tired rasp in her voice.

“Both.  All of it.  I don't know.” Chloe flips Beca's hair to one side and smiles against the woman's skin as she licks her neck.  “It doesn't really matter right now.” She tucks her arms up between Beca and the mattress and loves how her still-sensitive nipples tighten as they brush skin.  Her hips jerk on instinct and she sees Beca's eyes go wide. 

“Chlo?” she mumbles.  The nickname makes the redhead's stomach swoop and bottom out.

“Hmmm?” She answers and that's her fatal mistake...or her wisest decision because Beca flips onto her back under her, pulling Chloe down into a deep, but passionate kiss and slipping a hand down between the two of them, spreading Chloe’s pussy lips to tap out a rhythm with her middle finger against her sensitive, throbbing clit.

XxxX

Chloe arrives home from the Hamptons tanned, relaxed and mostly happy.  Admittedly, there are tears when she has to part from Beca, but Beca promises a date at El Morocco soon to celebrate their engagement. 

Henry meets her at the train station to give her lift to her brownstone.  The charade makes it look like they’ve arrived home together. He also uses this time in Manhattan traffic to give her the ring. “It’s beautiful, Henry. “

“I know it’s nothing like the one Beca gave you, but I tried to find something you’d like.” 

“I’d say you did very well.” She kisses his cheek and he smiles.  “I hope you didn’t spend too much on it.” 

Henry laughs.  “Three dollars from a vendor in Times Square, doctored up with a blue Tiffany’s box.” 

“Oh Henry, you spoil me.” Chloe playfully slaps his shoulder and slips the ring on her finger, feeling Beca’s ring in her pocket and a wave of sadness come over her. 

She tries to hide it as she unlocks the front door to the house and is met immediately by her mother, who barely gives her a moment to cross the threshold.   

“My baby,” she squeezes Chloe’s cheeks in her hands.  “Did you say yes?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes, but she lets a smile spread across her face as she thinks back to the night of Beca’s proposal.  “Of course I did.” 

“Well, let me see the ring then.”     
She holds out her left hand for her mother to see.  “Chloe, it’s beautiful.” 

Chloe takes her hand back and gazes at it. It is beautiful, but it’s missing something.  Her mother has no idea that it’s just a ring. It’s not  _ the  _ ring, not the one from Beca, not the one that means everything and how it’s killing her to not be able to wear it. Flaunt it.  

She forces a smile and a polite “Thanks,” before fielding questions about how Henry proposed.  Chloe makes a mental note to fill him in on her answers so their story is air-tight. 

Her patience with her mother is just about to boil over and give out.  Of course, it's then that Mrs. Beale announces the wedding will be in September. And save the date cards are already in the mail. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want to hate Tom Reynolds even more than you already do, then chapter 17 is the chapter for you. 
> 
> XxxX
> 
> Thanks to Flambini, who helped tremendously with this chapter even though she probably didn’t realize it. I blame the pancakes :)

“September?  But that’s only three months away,” says Stacie, incredulous.  

“I’ll admit, it’s fast, but it’s that much sooner that you can move out of your parents’ house and pretend to move with Henry so you can actually live with Beca,” Aubrey observes.

They all laugh at the absurdity of it.  And it would be genuine laughter too if it weren’t for the fact that they’re all essentially playing with fire in a straw house. 

Chloe’s enjoying their girls’ night out at El Morocco, but she can’t stop her eyes from flitting to the door, looking for her new fiancee.  In an effort to get her mind off of Beca’s whereabouts she turns her attention to the couple in front of her. “How has it been for the two of you?” she asks, gesturing between Stacie and Aubrey.  “Splitting your time between living together and living with Oliver?” 

“It’s definitely tricky.  Luckily, my parents have left us mostly alone --”   

Stacie jumps in to the conversation.  “They don’t want to do disturb you and your baby making.”

Aubrey and Chloe both scrunch up their noses at Stacie, but they both turn when they hear Beca.  “Well, I’m clearly at the wrong table,” she jokes. As she turns to leave, Chloe grips her wrist and pulls her down into her lap.  “Hello fiancee,” she says, pecking Beca’s lips. 

“Missed you, soon to-be-wife.”  

“God, we were this sickening sweet when we first got together?” Stacie moans.

“Worse,” says Beca. 

“And what do you mean ‘when you  _ first  _ got together?” Chloe chimes in.  

“She’s right,” Beca agrees.  “Have you seen yourselves?” Aubrey is tucked into Stacie’s side, one hand around her waist, the other pressed into her chest and Aubrey’s head on her shoulder.  “You’re fused together. You’re basically one person. We should just combine your names. You’re…” Beca thinks for a second. “You're Staubrey.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes when Beca laughs at her own joke.  Stacie merely stares her down with a blank expression before her facade cracks and she playfully pokes Beca in the ribs.  Chloe does little to defend Beca, but doesn’t completely hang her out to dry, either. 

Instead, she wraps a protective arm around Beca’s shoulder and pulls Beca to her, essentially out of arms’ reach of Stacie.  “We,” she starts, stilling the brunette’s hand that is reaching out to return the poke, “have a proposal.” 

Aubrey mirrors Chloe’s movements and holds Stacie in place, out of arms reach of Beca.

“We would like you to be in our wedding.  We love both of you so much -- “ 

“You’re just OK,” Beca interrupts, earning a warm smile and a swat from Chloe, who continues, “and we couldn’t decide who should be maid of honor, so... you both are.  Assuming you agree, that is.” 

Aubrey and Stacie exchange glances, but they can’t contain the grins that spread across their faces.    “Of course,” they say in unison. 

But then Stacie’s smile falters.  “Are you sure, Chloe? What about Beca?” 

“We talked about it,” Beca says as she lightly rubs Chloe’s palm with her thumb.  “And we think it would just seem strange, since I haven’t known Chloe that long. I’m fine with it, believe me.” 

“If you’re sure,” says Aubrey, quirking an eyebrow in concern.  

“I am.  I’ll be cheering you both on from the front row as an honored guest.” 

“It’s a wedding, Beca, not a Yankee game,” says Stacie finally on the receiving end of a poke from Beca. 

“Be nice.  I was going to offer to get us all more drinks and tell you about the apartment I found, but…”

All three women practically pile on top of Beca, eager for details, which makes her laugh.  More than that, it makes her feel loved. She finally feels like she has her family. 

XxxX

Tom can’t quite put a finger on what he’s said (or not said), done (or not done), but he’s been turned down by yet another girl -- the fifth in as many weeks.  He doesn’t understand it. He’s well educated, has a good job, is smart and handsome (or so he thinks). By any definition, he should be a good catch, which is probably why the pressure from his parents, especially his mother, to find a wife, to settle down, is particularly agitating.  

It’s in his overwrought state that he finds himself on 8th Avenue at 3 a.m., drunkenly stumbling towards some sleazy strip joint, where he’s guaranteed some female attention...even if he does have to pay for it. 

What he doesn’t expect to find in this unseemly place at this unseemly hour is a familiar face -- actually two.  

Oliver and Henry are standing close together in front of the Tool Box, a pansy club, with a group of other...friends?  Lovers? Tom doesn’t presume to understand, nor does he want to know, anything about how these fairies work. Frankly, he doesn’t want to be anywhere near them, but he can’t pass up this opportunity. 

He steps up behind Oliver, who has his elbow propped up on Henry’s shoulder, and clears his throat, which causes them to jump and immediately break apart as if the other were contagious. 

“Tom,” Henry says, trying to mask his surprise.  “Funny meeting you here.” 

“I could say the same about the two of you.  Did you and your, uh, gentlemen friends enjoy the, uh…” he glances up at the neon sign on the front of an otherwise nondescript building.  “Tool Box this evening?”

Oliver hesitates, frozen with fear, but Henry comes to all of their rescues.   He starts to laugh and Oliver thinks he may have gone completely goofy. “That gent right there,” he points to one of their friends in the distance, “is getting married in a few days and told him we’d take him to a strip club for his bachelor party.  We just didn’t tell him it was a homo club.” Henry continues to laugh, clapping his hand over Tom’s shoulder. “Good one, right?” 

Tom isn’t sure whether he should believe Henry or not.  He laughs along with him to be polite, but he looks a little disappointed that Henry might actually be telling the truth.  But for Henry, that’s not quite enough. “So, that’s us. What are you up to tonight, Tom?”

Henry notices Tom’s cockiness melt from him as he fumbles to reasonably answer the question, without making himself look pathetic.  “I, uh, well,” he scratches his chin nervously, “I was supposed to meet some friends at some club on 8th Avenue, but I’ve been up and down the street a few times now and I can’t find them, so I guess I’m on my way home unless…” 

Henry sees it coming like an approaching tornado and he is fully prepared shut Tom down.  “That’s a real curve, Tom,” he says. “I’d invite you to join us…” Oliver’s eyes get wide with panic, but he exhales slowly, inconspicuously when he realizes Henry is totally in control of the situation.  “But we’re calling it a night too.” 

Tom eyes the group, none of whom look like they’re ready to disperse anytime soon, but he doesn’t think calling them out on their clear lie will help his case.  “Well then, get home safe,” he says. He bids them good-night and ambles down the block away from them.

When he’s out of sight, Oliver takes Henry’s face between his hands and kisses him soundly.  “I love a man who can think on his feet.” 

“That was close.  Too close. We need to be more careful.  Even at 3 a.m. on 8th Avenue.” 

It’s a rule that Henry and Oliver clearly can’t help but break. 

XxxX  

The second time it happens, Oliver and Henry, have much less of a believable excuse, and Tom is like a kid on Christmas -- simply giddy.

Tom doesn't necessarily need to walk down this street to get to the subway, but sometimes he likes to pass by Chloe's house in the hopes that she'll be coming or going and he'll have an opportunity to bump into her, merely to say hello.  Absolutely not at all to try and flirt with her. Show her what she's missing. What she could have.

On this particular day, Tom spies Oliver, leaning on a lamp post just down the block from the Beales, thumbing through the  _ New York Daily News,  _ and he tilts his head in question -- one that is answered quickly when he sees Henry emerge from the brownstone, Chloe close behind.

They're both laughing before he wraps her in a huge hug and kisses her head.  Then, he takes a step back, gripping her forearms and kissing her cheek, both still smiling as she watches him bound down the step to the sidewalk.

Tom is at once furious, jealous and embarrassed.  After all, what does Henry have that Tom doesn't? Why couldn't Chloe love him the way she loves this Colbert twit?

He watches with interest as Henry strides to Oliver's side and wraps him in the same hug he gave to Chloe, only this time he delivers a much less chaste kiss to Oliver's lips, rather than his head or cheek as he'd done with Chloe.

Thinking back to the night on 8th Avenue and now this, Tom's fairly certain he now knows what Henry has that he doesn't.  The only thing left is to prove to Mr. Beale that his daughter is a beard so that she'll leave Henry and then he can swoop in and sweep Chloe Beale off her feet.

XxxX

The six friends have just settled in to a table at a posh speakeasy in their neighborhood when Tom walks in.   They are in their ‘society pairings’ as they call it now. Aubrey curled into Oliver’s side and Henry with his arm around Chloe’s shoulders.  But Beca’s hand lingers on Chloe’s thigh under the table, fingers mindlessly tapping out some tune Chloe can’t quite make out. She doesn’t care, as long as Beca is touching her in some way.  

Henry is the first to see Tom approach their table. Chloe feels his grip tense and she looks up at him with concern before following his line of sight to the unwelcome guest.  Her smile drops, which Aubrey and Oliver notice prompting them to turn around. 

“Well, gents, out with the ladies, I see?” 

“Can we help you, Reynolds?” Oliver asks with no mirth in his voice or on his face.

“Not at all.  Just passing by to see how the rest of your night was on 8th Avenue.  Quite a different crowd you were with then, hmm?” 

Tom can’t see the way Aubrey’s eyes widen in concern and Chloe doesn’t want to be obvious in the way she telegraphs a look to her to calm down.  It’s when Henry shoves the chair back, standing up from the table, fists clenched at his sides, that Chloe feels the bile rise in the back of her throat.  

Tom, on the other hand, is relaxed. Confident. Smug.  All too pleased with himself for getting a reaction from the entire table, he merely smiles a greasy smile -- one that instantly fades when he sees it.  Sees Chloe reach up to grip Henry’s forearm and tug him back down next to her, her engagement ring sparkling in the light from the bar as she does.

Henry notices exactly where he’s looking and he knows exactly what he’s doing when sits back down and nuzzles Chloe’s hair, kissing her temple and making her giggle that giggle that curls Beca’s toes and makes Tom’s heart falter. 

His stomach knots and he doesn’t know whether he wants to punch Henry senseless or plead with Chloe to give him another chance.  But he does neither when he remembers that he has the upper hand in this situation. 

Henry smiles the same smarmy smile that Tom wore earlier when he takes Chloe’s left hand in his and, locking eyes with his nemesis, spits out,  “I’m sorry, Tom. What did you say you wanted?  _ Something? _ ”    

Tom withers slightly before squaring his shoulders again.  He tugs at the lapels on his dinner jacket, straightens his tie and walks off in a huff, leaving Oliver and Henry feeling victorious.

But not so fast. 

Aubrey grips Oliver’s tie and pulls him to her.  “What the hell did you two do?” she asks, shooting a leveling glance at Henry. 

“Aubrey, we were just on 8th Avenue and -- “ 

“Oliver, there’s nothing on 8th Avenue except sleazy strip clubs and -- “

“Um, pansy clubs,” Beca chimes in, clearly not helping as the entire table glares at her, and she shrinks back in her seat.

“He saw the two of you?” Chloe asks, and there’s fear in her eyes.

Oliver nods with guilt, but Henry is less willing to admit to any wrongdoing.  “He only thinks he did. We told him we were there as part of a bachelor party.  As a joke.” 

Chloe relaxes a bit at Henry's response, but Aubrey isn’t convinced Tom bought their excuse. 

“And he didn’t catch you, uh, doing anything?” Stacie chimes in.

“We’re not rabbits, Stacie,” Henry says, slightly offended. 

“I know that, but it only takes one touch or kiss to give you -- us,” she gestures to the entire table, “away.”

“He didn’t see anything, Stacie.  I’m certain of it. He’s just being a crumb. Now can we please get back to our evening?” 

XxxX  

It’s almost last call.  Chloe’s drunk and a drunk Chloe just wants to be close to Beca in every way.  At present, Chloe is pressed into Beca’s back, her arms draped over her shoulders and crossed across her chest.  Beca cranes her neck to kiss her jaw. As she does, she says against her cheek. “We have to be careful too, Chlo,” and as much as it pains her, she peels Chloe’s arms from her, instead wrapping an arm around her waist.  It’s a gesture that could merely be read as supporting an unsteady friend, but the way Beca sinks her fingertips into the taut skin over Chloe’s hip bone suggests more as they head towards the exit. 

As Aubrey stands up from the table to gather her purse her eyes happen to fall on Tom and she follows his gaze to where it settles on the placement of Beca’s arm, the way Chloe is leaning into her.  When she breaks the two apart, surprising both of them, she makes no apologies. “This is for your own good,” she subtly nods in Tom’s direction and drags Chloe away. “Beca, we’ll meet you outside,”  she says, leaving a confused brunette in her wake. 

Henry sweeps her up with an arm around her shoulder and moves her to the exit saying only, “Tom,” and that’s all she needs to hear.  She doesn’t know what he did nor does she care. She wants wants them  _ all  _ to be far away from him. 

Outside the speakeasy, the group reconvenes and starts to fall out of their ‘social pairings,’ naturally gravitating to the objects of their real attraction. Beca and Chloe are bringing up the rear, with an overly affectionate Chloe slowing down their pace. “I want to go to your place tonight,” she says. It’s meant to be a whisper, but Chloe’s ability to moderate the volume of her voice vanished with the last sidecar she drank.  No matter how subtle (or not) Chloe’s being, Beca’s can feel the heat between her legs, that is until someone trailing behind them catches her eye. “Shit,” she says softly and Chloe turns stone cold sober when she realizes. 

Thinking quickly, she yells to the rest of the group, “Hey,” getting them all to stop in their tracks.

“Everything OK?” asks Oliver, eyeing Tom as he slithers past.  

“Aces,” she says.  “Anyone game for continuing this party at Beca’s?” 

The question paints confusion across Tom’s face and now Chloe’s the one looking smug.  No one speaks until he’s a safe distance ahead of them and Beca lets out a deep breath. 

“What’s wrong?”  Henry steps forward with a look of concern on his face.  

“He heard you, Chloe,” Beca doesn’t mean to chastise, doesn’t mean to put that pathetic look on Chloe’s face, but for the life of her, she can’t figure out why they’re all getting sloppy.  

“What did you say, Chloe?” asks Stacie. 

“But I covered it up, Beca.  He bought it.” 

“What did you say, Chloe?” Aubrey repeats Stacie’s question.

Beca sighs and runs her fingers through her hair.  “She said she wanted to come to my place tonight.” 

Stacie shrugs.  “Honestly, it’s not the worst thing she could have said.” 

“She’s right,” Henry says. 

The rest nod their heads. “And it was a good cover, Chloe,” says Aubrey. “But I still think we need to be on our toes.” 

They all nod in agreement, making a silent a commitment to unite and protect each other against a particular common enemy.   But then, just like that, the moment of seriousness fizzles thanks to Stacie. “You should make sure to take her up on that offer, Beca.  You never know when Tom or some other idiot will blow it.” 

“What a pleasant thought, Stacie.  Thanks.” 

“She’s right you know,” Chloe whispers -- really whispers this time.  “And I really should be the only doing that,” she says as she licks the shell of Beca’s ear and then blows across it, sending a wave of goosebumps down her neck and tightening the skin around her nipples, which she can feel pressing against her bra. 

XxxX 

There is a lot about Beca that impresses Chloe.  Even after nearly a year together, she still stumbles upon little things that make her smile to herself: Beca remembers exactly how Chloe likes her tea; she knows how and where to rub Chloe’s back to make her purr in contentment, and she speaks French -- something Chloe didn’t know until a French couple happened to stop them on the street in need of directions.  After that, Chloe was so turned on that she promised to make love to Beca all night if she spoke only French. 

Tonight, it’s Beca’s strength that surprises Chloe as she presses her into the door, arms under her thighs, which are wrapped around Beca’s waist, supporting her while she peppers Chloe’s neck with kisses. She's done it before, but it never ceases to amaze Chloe that someone so small has so much power over her...and how willing she is to submit.

“Jesus, Beca,” she breathes out, and she feels Beca smirk. 

“Hold on tight,” says Beca as she takes a step back, bearing Chloe’s weight and making her giggle.   

“You’re like an ant.” 

Beca looks at her with a question on her face.

“Ants can lift like 5,000 times their own body weight.” 

“Gees, give yourself some credit.  You’re not that heavy, Chlo.”

“Right answer,” Chloe smiles and ducks her head to kiss Beca, their tongues finding one another, completely distracting Beca from her intended path...or so she thinks. 

They wind up in Beca’s bathroom, not the bedroom, as Chloe expected, and Beca sets her down.  

“May I,” she asks as she grips the bottom of Chloe’s blouse.

Chloe, watching her, trying to figure out her intentions and what’s going to happen next, nods willingly and lifts her arms as Beca takes the shirt from her.  With one hand, she reaches down to the tap in the tub to turn it on. The other reaches around Chloe’s waist, holding her close. 

Her nose is pressed lightly against Chloe’s, but they’re not kissing.  They’re just existing together, breath for for breath. It’s moments like this when the world falls away. Everything ceases to exist except for the two of them and the fragile space they occupy.    

It’s then that Beca brings her other hand to Chloe’s now-naked back, the one that she swiped under cold water to test the temperature, making Chloe jump and squeal.  The stunt earns Beca a playful swat to the arm, but before she can retaliate further, Beca takes Chloe’s hand in hers and pulls her close again, kissing her soundly. “Take a bath with me?” 

Chloe nods and watches, her lower lip captured in between her teeth, as Beca takes off her shirt and shimmies out of the skirt she wore -- the one Chloe couldn’t tear her eyes from because the slit was just high enough to tease her with the rolling swells of muscle in Beca’s thigh.  It’s nothing she hadn’t seen before, but she always appreciates an opportunity to drink in her girlfriend’s body that is petite but, as evidenced tonight, deceptively strong -- something Chloe would have never guessed until the first time Beca held her, really held her. 

She’s broken out of the memory by hands at her waist, deftly unbuttoning buttons and freeing Chloe from her trousers and underwear.  

Beca reaches around Chloe to turn off the lights and takes her hand, guiding her to the edge of the tub.  It’s a huge claw foot tub that could probably easily accommodate two more people and still leave space to breathe.  After Beca’s settled in, she reaches up to Chloe’s hips to help ease her down between her legs, bubbles covering everything but their heads.  

She settles easily against Beca, who finds her hands beneath water and clasps them together.  

“You OK?” 

“Hmmm?”  Chloe asks lazily.  Between the alcohol, the run-in with Tom and the warm bath, she’s already starting to drift. 

“I asked if you’re OK. You know, after having to deal with Tom tonight.” 

Chloe only nods against Beca. 

“Do you think he’ll say something to your parents?” 

“He might.  And if he does, I’ll deal with it.” 

“I think you mean,  _ we’ll  _ deal with it.  We’re an ‘us’ now, Chloe.”

Chloe flexes her toes against the end of the tub, pushing her back further into Beca and craning her neck to kiss the brunette.  “You’re so sweet. How did I get so lucky?”

Beca leans into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Chloe to keep her from drifting away.  Before she knows it, Chloe is in her lap, her ankles locked behind Beca’s back and the mood in the room shifting quickly from innocent and sleepy to something far more suggestive.

They displace some of the water in the tub when Chloe holds herself firmly to Beca, tipping her hips slightly and it’s then that Beca can feel the soft, gentle folds of Chloe’s pussy on her stomach.  She moans at the contact. Chloe’s not rubbing hard or fast, but just knowing what she’s doing beneath the bubbles, letting Beca feel how hard her clit is, has Beca squeezing her own thighs together to stem the pressure that’s building.  She has the fleeting thought of moving them to the bed to finish what Chloe’s started, but having to pry the redhead’s legs from around her waist might actually kill her. 

Instead, she sinks down further into the tub, gripping Chloe’s shoulder with one hand to push her lower, too, so that less of her is exposed to the cool air around them.  As she does, her other hand slips between the two of them to find Chloe’s slit.

Beca’s movements are slow and deliberate.  She knows because she can  _ feel  _ that Chloe is already worked up and she smiles at the sweet sigh Chloe releases when Beca’s fingers find and start to massage her clit.  She’s purposely being slow for a purely selfish reason: she’s never in a position to really see up close and personal how Chloe’s face changes when she touches her, how she presses her lips together to stifle a moan; the way her head drops back when Beca cups her pussy and squeezes, letting Chloe rock into the palm of her hand.  

Her brow furrows when Beca enters her and she winces slightly, but Beca doesn't stop her movements.  She knows from experience, that's Chloe's response to the way her fingers work; the way they stretch and fill her, and she watches as the redhead submits.

When Chloe brings her head forward, she rests it against Beca’s, eyes dropped down so she can watch the brunette’s hand work between the two of them.  The muscles in Beca’s forearm flex each time Beca’s fingers curl inside her. 

“I l-love to watch you fucking me,” Chloe says breathless. 

Beca looks into lust-filled blue eyes and kisses Chloe. “I love fucking you, Chlo.  I love you.” 

With that, Chloe cants her hips, forcing Beca to change the angle of her hand and allowing her to sink her fingers in deeper. The shift makes Chloe purse her lips tightly as she rides Beca, chasing an orgasm that, when it finally hits, leaves her body with a strong shudder and  breathy staccato, stutter of, “Oh. Oh. My. G-g-god. Bec-Beca. Ugh.” 

She drops her head in exhaustion and Beca can’t help but smile at the woman in front of her as she takes her face in her hands and peppers light kisses all over her cheeks, neither caring that the bath water has turned cold when they’re warm in each other’s embrace. 

XxxX

Henry is at the bar, getting himself and Mr. Beale a whiskey, when a few of his friends -- many of whom were with he and Oliver that night on 8th Ave. -- gather around him to say hi.  They’re subtle of course, playing it completely straight for the benefit of everyone around them, but Tom isn’t about to be fooled. If anyone is going to be red in the face this afternoon, he's determined it’s going to be Henry. 

Tom sees his opportunity when Dr. Samson gives Mr. Beale a friendly slap on the back and tips the bartender on the way out the club. Mr. Beale has just settled back into an overstuffed armchair and opens the  _ Wall Street Journal,  _ when Tom approaches.  “Afternoon, Mr. Beale.  This seat taken?” Tom gestures to a nearby leather armchair as Mr. Beale eyes him over the rims of his glasses. “Ah, Reynolds,” he says, trying to act cordial.  “As a matter of fact, my soon-to-be son-in-law is here, joining me for a drink.” He nods in Henry’s direction and Henry raises a glass in acknowledgement.

“Henry Colbert? I didn’t know.  Congratulations.” He forces out before extending a hand, which Mr. Beale reluctantly shakes.   “Though I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised.”

“And why’s that?” Mr. Beale asks, becoming exasperated. 

“I just always thought Colbert and his friends there,” he nods towards Henry and the group of young men at the bar, “were a little...how do I put this politely.  Well, they’re queers, Sir.” 

Mr. Beale drops the newspaper to his lap. “And what makes you think that, son?” 

“I don’t think it, Sir.  I know it. I’ve seen them all on 8th Avenue.  If you don’t believe me, just ask Colbert.” 

“I find this all very hard to believe, Reynolds.  After all, he is engaged to my daughter.” 

“Mmm,” Tom nods, playing along and the very action does exactly what he intends it to do -- cast doubt in Mr. Beale’s mind.  His run-in with Tom, coupled with what his wife saw on 5th Ave., last week -- 

But his chain of thought is interrupted by Henry.   “Your whiskey, Mr. Beale. Cheers.” He tips his glass towards Mr. Beale who barely acknowledges him or the drink.

“Good talking to you, Mr. Beale,” says Tom, who slinks away, avoiding Henry’s stare.  

“Sir, is, um, everything all right?”  asks Henry, fearing that Tom has somehow polluted things.  And he’s not that far off. 

“Those young men you were talking with?” 

“Yes, Sir?” 

“Friends of yours?” 

“Acquaintances mostly.  One is Oliver’s cousin, so I know them through him.” 

“They married?” 

“Not at all, Sir.  They’re young and immature and --”

“Homosexual?” 

Henry nearly chokes on his whiskey, sputtering.  “Homo --? I...I, uh, really don’t know, Sir. I don’t know them well enough.”

“Reynolds there said he saw you with them on 8th Avenue.  Isn’t that all pansy clubs and strip joints? A blemish on the city.” 

“Well, that’s true, Sir.  See, we played a prank on one of the boys for his bachelor party, telling him we were taking him to a strip club and then leading him to a homo bar. It was childish, admittedly, and I’m sorry you had to hear about it.”  

“What about you?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, you.  You a fag?” 

Henry’s not sure if it’s the summer heat seeping in through the club windows, or his nerves, but he’s thankful for his blazer because he knows he’s sweating profusely through his shirt.  “Sir? Am I...No, I mean, I’m marrying Chloe. I love Chloe.” He says the words with as much conviction as he can amid his panic, and he has never hated himself more. He understands now how Chloe felt after meeting and gaining the trust of her parents.  It’s confirmation that the sweat is definitely nerves...and that he’s definitely a jerk. 

That is until Mr. Beale forces one of his big, loud laughs. “Sit down, Colbert.  Have a drink and relax. Between you and me, Reynolds is a goof. I trust you, Son," he says, hoping it will negate that one sliver of doubt that keeps jabbing at him like a stitch in his side.  When it doesn't, he downs his glass of whiskey.   

Henry swallows hard and his vision goes blurry for a split second.  He cannot think of four worse words Mr. Beale could say. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begs the age-old question: “Is ‘tongue fucking’ hyphenated, or not?” Smutty grammar gurus, what say you?
> 
> Also, apologies in advance for what I did here. You can take your frustrations out on me in the comments. I'm ready for it. 
> 
> XxxX

Stacie, Aubrey, Chloe and Mrs. Beale are seated around the Beales’ dining room table affixing stamps on about 300 wedding invitations.

Everything about Chloe looks tired and needy.  Wedding planning -- dress fittings, cake tastings, appointments with caterers and florists -- for an event happening in less than three months has been a whirlwind.  Like riding atop a speeding locomotive, there’s nothing enjoyable or exciting about it at all. Henry has been with her every step of the way, which has been fine and fun, but it also means that it’s been days since she’s even seen Beca let alone had any sort of opportunity to be close with her.  To bury her head in Beca’s neck, close her eyes and breathe her in. To just disappear with her. 

So, when Chloe notices that Beca's name isn't on the invitation list, Aubrey and Stacie aren’t necessarily surprised by her reaction.  Mrs. Beale on the other hand... 

“Mother?”

Mrs. Beale looks up from the envelopes in front of her with a questioning eyebrow.  

“I thought I asked that Beca Mitchell be invited, and I don't see her name anywhere.”

“Chloe, you barely know her.  Just because she showed you around London for a few days doesn't merit an invitation.  We have other people to consider. Close friends of the family.”

Chloe flushes in anger. “She  _ is  _ a friend.  Unlike most of these other people.  I barely know half of them.” She brushes her hand across the table, sending invitations and envelopes flying.  She reads out loud the name on one that happens to fall in her lap, “Like George and Ruth Pomeroy. Mother, who are these people?”

Stacie and Aubrey stop what they're doing and watch the Beale women bicker.  Both know full well that Chloe won't go through with the wedding if Beca isn't at least in the same room with her.

Mrs. Beale's eyes widen in panic as Chloe taunts her.  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know, the Pomeroys, Chloe.”

“Remind me,” she challenges.

“They, um...You met them when...You know, your father would probably be better at -- ”

Chloe fixes her stare on her mother as Mrs. Beale fumbles.

“That's what I thought, Mother.  Please be sure Beca receives an invitation.” She slides her chair back and stands up, flattening the front of her trousers.  “And it’s Beca with one 'c’. 

She walks out of the dining room, leaving Mrs. Beale in a state of mild shock.  She turns to Aubrey and Stacie, who are still seated across the table, silent, for a clue as to what’s gotten in to her daughter. 

Aubrey anticipates the question before Mrs. Beale can even ask it. “I think she’s just stressed, Mrs. Beale.  The wedding isn’t that far away, and there is still quite a bit to do.” Aubrey hates a little that the Beales are rushing Chloe into this and, while she recognizes it puts Chloe within arms reach of independence from her parents, she doesn’t like what it’s doing to her friend.  So, while Chloe stuck the knife into Mrs. Beale, Aubrey doesn’t miss an opportunity to twist it. Subtly. Politely. Respectfully. “Afterall, three months isn’t really a lot of time to plan…”

With that, Aubrey and Stacie excuse themselves and manage to catch Chloe as she tears down the front stairs of the house.

Only Stacie is brave enough to speak up.  “Chlo, where are we going?”

The answer is obvious when Aubrey and Chloe answer in unison. “Beca’s.” 

XxxX

The girls are sitting in a quiet park across from Beca’s apartment, watching some of the neighborhood kids splash in a fountain.  Chloe’s head is on Beca’s shoulder and Beca’s hand has snaked between the redhead’s back and the bench so she can hook her fingers into the belt loop on Chloe’s slacks and hold her close.   

“Chloe, it’s not worth it,” Beca says, hoping to help settle her fiancee a bit.  “I don’t have to be at the wedding. I just have to be at  _ our  _ wedding,” she says, gesturing between them.  “And hopefully I don’t need an invitation for that!”

She chuckles, trying to lighten a dour, tired mood.  When Chloe doesn’t respond, she looks at Aubrey and Stacie for help. 

It’s funny, Beca thinks to herself in that moment, that Chloe is the one coming apart under the pressure.  She’d have bet money that it would be her. That she’d be like Stacie -- the one having a difficult time, even knowing full well everything was all pretend.  All for show. 

But watching Chloe go through this, she knew she couldn’t crumble.  She knew she could live under the lavender shadow that was destined to follow them like a tail. It wasn’t ideal. It wouldn’t be fun, but she’d do it, no questions, no complaints, as long is it meant that she could hold on to the redhead tucked into her side for a lifetime.  But now, looking at Chloe, withered next to her, she wasn’t so sure if the reverse were true, and her stomach plummeted hard at the thought that her love might not be enough. 

Aubrey kneels in front of Chloe and thumbs away the tears that have stalled on her cheeks.  “C’mon, Chloe.” She takes Chloe’s hands and lifts her off the bench to walk her back to Beca’s apartment, but they’re stopped in their tracks by a voice behind them.  

“Ladies, I thought I’d find you here,” Henry is about to make a joke about the four of them -- Chloe, Beca, Aubrey and Stacie -- always traveling in a pack, or being attached at the hip, but he stops and rushes to Chloe when he sees the state she’s in.  He looks at Beca and then to Aubrey, concerned. Beca only shakes her head. It’s Aubrey who hugs Chloe a little closer and says, “It’s just been a lot, right Chloe? With not enough Beca.”

Beca reaches up to link a single finger with one of Chloe’s, stroking it with her thumb.  It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to bring a shy smile to Chloe’s face, and Beca thinks she sees some of the light return to the redhead’s eyes.

Chloe then takes a deep breath, “Hi, Henry. I’m OK.”

He takes her face in his hands and gives her chaste kiss on the cheek.  “That’s my girl.” 

“So, what brings you by?” asks Aubrey sitting them down again. 

“Well…” he knits his fingers together.  “Maybe we should -- “ he eyes Aubrey and jerks his head to the left, silently suggesting that they step to the side, away from the rest of the group, but Chloe doesn’t let it go that easily.

“Henry?  What?” Chloe gently goads, even though she knows deep down she doesn’t want the answer.  “What is it?” 

He looks back at Aubrey, who nods curtly, signaling for him to continue.  She doesn’t know what Henry’s about to say, though she thinks she can make an educated guess.  What she does know for certain is that if Oliver is involved, he’s unlikely to make it to their first fake wedding anniversary.  

“There was an incident at the club,” he looks up at the girls, all four of whom are now gathered around him, focused on him, like he’s giving a lecture -- the contents of which will be on next week’s midterm.  Aubrey’s fists clench at his words and Stacie places a hand on the small of her back, which makes her relax, but doesn’t do much to mute the red flush on her face and chest. 

“And?” Beca questions. 

“And I think Tom suggested to your father,” he makes eye contact with Chloe, “that I was homosexual because of who I was associating with.” 

“Who exactly were you associating with, Henry?”  Stacie asks the question on everyone’s mind. 

“Just the usual., James Baker, James Livermore, James Thomas…”

“You need friends with different names, Henry,” Beca cuts in, breaking the tension a bit.

“William Chester, and Eddie and Paul Windemere,” he finishes. 

Beca can’t figure out why her three friends look so perplexed, but Stacie is quick to fill in the blanks.  “But out of that group, only you, Oliver and Paul are homosexual, so what made Tom assume the entire group was?

“Nothing,” says Aubrey.  “He just guessed. He knows just enough to be dangerous. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get him involved in this.”

“You didn’t know, Aubrey,” Stacie says, kissing her temple in an effort to comfort her wife.  

“Oliver thinks we should kill him and throw him in the Hudson,” Henry offers. 

“Oliver’s a smart man,” commends Beca.  

Chloe lightly slaps Beca’s shoulder and in any other circumstance, Beca would take it as a teasing gesture but now it only comes across as joyless and feeble, two words she’d never associate with Chloe.  

“What exactly did he say to my father?” 

“I don’t know what he said, Chloe.  I was at the bar, but when I got back to where your father was seated, he asked if they were all married and when I said ‘no,’ he asked if it was because they were queers.” 

Chloe’s hand has been clamped over her mouth in disbelief.  It’s only at this point that she removes it to speak. “And what did you say?” 

“Well, nothing.  Then he asked if I was queer too, and I’ll admit, he caught me off guard, but I told him that I love you, Chloe and…”

“And?”

“And he bought it.  He called Tom a goof.”

“He got one thing right,” Beca rolls her eyes. 

“He also said,” Henry can’t help the groan that escapes him, “that he trusts me.”

“But that’s good,” says Aubrey.  

“Aubrey, he said he trusts me, even after I lied to the man’s face.  How is that good?” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Aubrey says somewhat callously.  

“But if he does find out…” Stacie says quietly, not needing to fill in the blanks for anyone in their little huddle. 

“Aubrey, can you please take me back to Beca’s?” asks Chloe.

“Sweetie, I can take you,” Beca is by her side in a flash, an arm around her waist, but Chloe wriggles free. 

“It’s OK, Beca.  I’ll see you back there.” 

Beca turns back towards the bench, somewhat blinded by the flash of such a swift rejection only to find Stacie and Henry in her path, looking down at her, worried.

“I don’t -- “ Beca takes a deep breath.  “I’m not sure she’s going to make it through this.”   

“She’s under a lot of pressure, Beca,” says Stacie, resting a comforting hand on Beca’s bicep.  

“And fucking Tom’s not helping,” says Henry, angry but not loud.  

“What if she doesn’t...doesn’t want to marry me?  What if it just all gets to be too hard?” Beca swallows the lump in her throat. 

“I can’t see her walking away from you, Beca,” Henry sits on her other side.  “On the flight to London, all she talked about was how she was finally able to see her future with someone. How she finally let herself think about being a wife and even a mother.  And you did that for her.” 

Beca blinks as if she’s trying to process what Henry just said.

“Beca, she loves you,” he continues.  “You’re home to her. Much more than that brownstone on 74th or the house she grew up in ever were.”

“Be patient with her, Beca. And don’t doubt her, because she may not know what Tom will do next, or who her parents will invite to the wedding, or what dress she’ll be wearing when you say 'I do,’ but she’s certain about you, that you’ll be there.  That you love her -- “

“I do. God, I do.” 

“Good, because one hundred years from today, that’s the only thing that will matter.  Everything else -- ” Stacie flits her hand into the air, dismissively before wrapping Beca in a hug and tugging her in the direction of the apartment, both bidding their goodbyes to Henry, who takes off in the opposite direction.    

XxxX

Aubrey and Stacie left hours ago.  Since then, Beca’s been sitting at the piano, softly coaxing notes out of the keys so as not to disturb Chloe’s who’s asleep in the bedroom. 

She repeats several times the process of jotting down lyrics on a piece of paper and then erasing them before scribbling again.  Finally, she scoots back on the piano bench and rests her fingers on the keys, playing a short intro and then testing the words with the melody:

_ The moon is shining, and that's a good sign _

_ Cling to me closer and say you'll be mine _

_ Remember, darling, we won't see it shine _

_ A hundred years from today _

_ A hundred years from today _

Chloe emerges from the bedroom, “Beca?” 

Beca looks up from the piano and sees Chloe bathed in light, her hair tumbling over the shoulder that Beca has wanted to kiss all night, and wearing a creamy silk camisole that ends high up on her thigh.

“Chlo?  You all right?” Beca gets up and walks over to where’s she’s standing in the doorway.  

“Yes, I - “ she smiles and bites her lip.  “Was that our song?” 

Beca nods.  “I got some inspiration today, unexpectedly, so I was just playing around with some lyrics and...trying to make it perfect.”

“It’s already perfect because you wrote it for me. For us.” 

“No, no. It still needs some work. The second verse is --”  

“Beca, it’s late. Come to bed,” Chloe says cutting her off with a smirk -- one that Beca can’t help mirror because she hears the need in Chloe’s voice, plain as day, even though she never actually says the words.  They stare at each other for a slow moment, Beca relaxing further when she sees a familiar brightness return to Chloe’s eyes. Their breaths are shallow and fast. Beca whispers her lips over Chloe's and then quickly pulls back to see Chloe's reaction.

Chloe simply reaches out a hand.  Beca takes it and lets Chloe lead them into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.  Chloe releases it as she climbs into bed, Beca watching with a raised eyebrow, fully aware of what she wants -- and that’s even before Chloe looks up at her with desire.

Beca kneels on the bed and hovers over her, lightly caressing her jaw with her finger.  “You’re gorgeous, Chlo,” she says as she moves in close to nuzzle her with her nose and then drops down to her side.  She’s propped up on an elbow, tracing Chloe’s jaw, down her neck, to her collarbone and the lacy edge of her camisole, where it’s barely touching her freckled chest.  As she does, she gazes down the length of Chloe’s body, all the way down her smooth legs to her painted toenails. 

Beca’s touches feel like a million little earthquakes on her body, and Chloe is about to burst, watching the brunette’s slow and tender yet, purposeful movements.

Beca lightly trails a finger further down, over the silky fabric, circling Chloe’s taut nipple before bending to kiss it.  Chloe can’t help the way her back arches into Beca, wanting more but Beca only continues to tease, loving the way Chloe squirms when she whispers in her ear, “I want to look at you.” 

With a moan, Chloe presses her lips to Beca’s, her tongue flicking against the brunette’s for just the briefest moment before she pulls away.  Beca chases her, wanting to taste more, feel more of Chloe’s warm, wet mouth,but Chloe’s already sitting up, stripping herself of her camisole and then reclining back on the pillows, back in Beca’s arms, giving her exactly what she asked for. 

Without tearing her eyes away from Chloe, Beca’s hand automatically, instinctively comes up to cup the understand of the redhead’s breast, a thumb settling over her nipple, rubbing over it.  

Chloe releases a low moan at the sensation, her arm wrapping around Beca’s back to hold her close.           

“Please,“ Chloe rasps.

“Please what, Chlo?” asks Beca as she wraps her lips around the beautifully rosy nub, taking it gently into her mouth and flicking at it softly.  Admittedly, it’s hot to have Beca’s mouth on her like this, but that’s not what’s turning Chloe on. The way Beca is touching her, the way her hand splays across her belly with love, with reverence is the thing that’s spiking her arousal higher and higher, lust blurring her vision.  

She reaches out, grasping for Beca -- for any angle, any position that will bring Beca closer and allow her to hold Beca tighter. Their kisses grow increasingly unrestrained and frantic.  Lips land on whatever expanse of skin they can find for however long they can stay pressed to heated flesh before being yanked away by a sudden contraction of pleasure, only to find a new place to nip and lick.

The burning pressure in Chloe’s chest from a lack of air is so great, she might as well be a mile underwater, but she doesn’t stop, can’t stop their kissing. It’s not until she feels a hand between them, fingers parting her pussy lips that she inhales sharply.  “Yes, Beca.” 

Beca only smiles against her shoulder and turns her gaze down the length of Chloe’s body to watch the way she’s stroking the redhead.

Chloe’s legs are parted, her right leg bent at the knee, foot flat on the mattress.  Her left leg is extended slightly to the side to give Beca more room to press and rub, to slide her fingers through Chloe’s wet velvety softness.

She can hear how soaked she is as Beca’s thumb slides across her clit, the contact pulling a moan from deep within her. On instinct, she reaches down to grasp Beca’s hand, stilling her movement before tangling their fingers together and relishing the feeling of silkiness that coats them.  She draws Beca’s hand further down between her legs, where she wants it, needs it. 

“Inside, Bec,” she whispers. 

Beca watches her hand disappear only to feel her fingers sink into Chloe, surrounded by her sweet, throbbing pussy.  She moans as she follows Chloe’s curves, curling her fingers as she starts to thrust.

It’s slow at first, until she pushes herself up and in one motion swings her legs over Chloe’s so that she’s kneeling in between the redhead’s thighs. She has more leverage now to fuck Chloe a little harder and a little deeper.  She wears a look of concentration on her face as she changes her angle slightly and waits for a reaction before deciding to repeat the motion or move on. 

By this time, Chloe’s certain that Beca’s mouth has been all over her body, working her up for the better part of an hour.  There isn’t an inch of her that Beca hasn’t kissed or sucked, until she withdraws her fingers. 

Before Chloe can register what’s happened, Beca’s mouth is on her, bathing her pussy with long slow licks across and into her folds.  One hand fists the sheets in pleasurable desperation. The other is tangled in Beca’s hair, at once holding her close and then pushing her away when Beca begins to tease her clit with the tip of her tongue. 

Chloe bucks her hips and lets a whimper escape when Beca licks back down to her slit, easily sliding inside her, tongue fucking her.  The intensity of it all -- being this vulnerable and open, having Beca so, so close to her in such an intimate way -- makes her snap her thighs together around Beca’s head, and Beca can only laugh, sending vibrations crashing against sensitive, swollen flesh.

“Beca.  Fuck. What are you doing to me?”  Chloe groans out as she arches her back off the bed and props herself up on her elbows.  She watches as Beca hugs her arms tight around Chloe’s thighs, holding her open and still, so that she can put more of her mouth against her.

Beca's tongue quickly fills the redhead, finding a rhythm that has Chloe panting and silently straining for release.

“I'm so close, Beca.”

Becca knows exactly what will make Chloe come, but as she relaxes her grip on Chloe's thigh and lowers her hand, she's met with resistance.

A quick, questioning glance reveals that Chloe's hand is already between her legs, and Beca watches as the redhead rubs her clit in the quick, tight circles that Beca knows she likes, knows get her off.

Beca pauses her movements to watch, up close, the way Chloe touches herself, the way she rocks her clit with one finger.

Without even thinking, she tips her head up withdrawing her tongue.  Chloe winces at the loss of contact only to gasp when Beca kisses Chloe’s hand and then takes her finger into her mouth all the way down to the knuckle, easing it out, working over the tip and sliding her lips back down -- once, twice and a third time in quick succession before pulling it out of her mouth and placing it back on Chloe's clit. 

Chloe's head crashes down to the pillow and her eyes are squeezed shut as she digs her heels into the mattress, half in an attempt to steady herself, half to try and stem the overwhelming sensation that's building between her legs, like a dam about to burst. Meanwhile, Beca tries to hold her in place so she can continue sucking on her, her tongue pushing against and then into Chloe, until she feels the redhead go rigid and her pussy contract. She can’t pull away in time and comes right in Beca's mouth.

“Oh my God,” she says breathless, her arm draped over her eyes.

She can feel Beca kissing back up her body, stopping to let Chloe taste herself on Beca's lips and she groans, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face.  

Beca smiles too, both forgetting what transpired earlier and neither having any idea what's about to befall them.

XxxX

Mr. Beale does everything he possibly can to avoid Tom, who seems to turn up everywhere.  And every time he does, Mr. Beale can't help but replay certain moments in his head. 

He hasn't said anything to his wife about Tom's accusations.  She's been so busy with the wedding, running herself ragged back and forth to the venue -- the boathouse at Central Park -- to coordinate china, silver and linens, attending every one of Chloe's dress fittings, and taking an active role -- Chloe would say much too active -- in tastings.  When she completely vetoed Henry's stated preference for filet mignon, his absolute favorite and the only thing he really asked for as part of their arrangement, Chloe went behind her back and asked the chef to add it to the menu.

More than that though, Mr. Beale remembers the way her heart broke when Chloe and Katie were rumored to be a couple -- the way she hid her face when she went out in public, going so far as to withdraw her membership from the Buckhead Country Club.  She also stopped going to the Ladies’ Auxiliary meetings and her knitting club. Instead, she simply stayed at home, trying to figure out where she went wrong with her only child, what she did (or didn't) do that would cause Chloe to be -- her mouth couldn't, wouldn't even form the words, so she just referred to it as “that way.” She was convinced for a while that it was because she let Chloe climb trees.  After that, she blamed herself for giving Chloe a ball instead of a tea set. She could name reason after reason, but none were ever a satisfactory explanation for why her daughter was... the way she was. Slowly, it started to eat away at her. What started as looking for reasons quickly became trying to drown those reasons at the bottom of a bottle. The dark circles under her eyes, flushed cheeks and an unsteady hand were tell-tale signs that she'd all but given up hope, until Mr. Beale announced a fresh start for them in New York -- one that after more than three years had clearly done them all good.

So there was no way Mr. Beale could have shared this news with his wife and dragged her back down to that dark place once again.  Further, the likelihood of any of this being true was slim. Henry was one of the good ones -- he clearly loved Chloe and she was obviously smitten with him.

Tom was a different story.

“Reynolds, what can I do for you?” Mr. Beale asks, sensing his presence without even having to lower his newspaper to see who was hovering.

Tom can’t help it.  He is practically vibrating, but he does his best to sound calm and steady as he speaks.  He knows this is his last chance. He can’t blow it. He needs to act fast so he can show Mr. Beale first hand what betrayal he witnessed, but he can't seem too insistent.  Otherwise, Mr. Beale might get suspicious.

He takes a deep breath to temper his excitement. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Beale, but some of the gents are in the library debating the new trade tariffs and they wanted an expert opinion, “ He knew flattery would get him everywhere...except with women.  “They asked me to come fetch you. Would you?”

He gestures for Mr. Beale to follow him, which he does reluctantly.  Tom is doing his best not to race up the stairs and along the corridor, dragging Mr. Beale behind him.

But Tom slows when he sees it in the distance -- the same thing he witnessed mere moments ago -- giving Mr. Beale a chance to take it all in.  There, before they reach the library at the end of the darkened hall, Mr. Beale sees two figures, locked in an embrace. He can't quite make out who it is and really doesn't care.  In fact, the amorous activity is making him somewhat uncomfortable. But Tom urges him along until they're within a few feet of the couple, and he can only break out into a smug smile as Mr. Beale gasps at the realization.

XxxX

“Chloe!” Mr. Beale slams the door behind him.  “Chloe!”

Upon hearing her husband bellowing from the entryway, Mrs. Beale runs from the kitchen.  “Arthur? What is it?”

“Where's Chloe?”

“I, uh, I'm afraid I don't know.  Why?”

“You don't know?” he asks, somewhat incredulously.

“No, I don't Arthur.  First of all, she's 23. She can go where she pleases.”

Mr. Beale huffs.

“And second, she got a bit upset with me and left.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“She didn't like that Beca Mitchell wasn't invited to the wedding.”

“After what I just witnessed, I'm not so sure there will  _ be  _ a wedding.”

Now, it's Mrs. Beale's turn to raise an eyebrow in question.  “What, um…” she swallows hard. “What do you mean?”

“Ann, sit down.” He grips her shoulder and guides her down to the bench in the entryway. “I think Henry marrying Chloe is a sham.  I think Chloe's a -- what's the term?” He pauses. He recalls the word quite quickly in his head, but he just can't bring himself to say it.

“A what, Arthur?  Chloe's a what?”

“A beard,” he rushes out. “I think she's Henry's beard and theirs is a lavender wedding.”

Mrs. Beale blanches, gripping the edge of the bench. “How do you -- I mean why would you…?”

“Ann, I saw Henry and Oliver necking at the club today.”

Mrs. Beale clasps a hand to her chest. “Oh my God. Are you sure it was --?”

“Positive.”

“Did they see you?  What did they say?”

“What was there to say, Ann?  We caught them red-handed.”

“We?”

“Reynolds and I.”  He runs a hand through his thinning hair.  “God dammit. Reynolds was right all along, and I was too blind to see it. Or maybe Colbert is just that good of a liar. And to think I trusted him!”

“D-do you think Chloe knows?”

“I have no idea, but we can't -- I won't -- let her go through with this.  With...with  _ him.” _

Mrs. Beale sighs and slumps back against the bench.  She feels bad for Chloe. She does. Her daughter finally found someone she thought she could settle down with, and then something like this happens. But deep down, there's a sense of relief because she knows Chloe wouldn't agree to knowingly be anyone's beard.  So while there may be -- who is she kidding? _Will be_ \-- talk about this, she's relieved that most of the embarrassment will fall on the Colberts, while is Chloe the innocent victim.

She's shaken from her thoughts by Mr.  Beale, whose ire is building again. “Dammit.  I can't believe I let Colbert play me for a fool. I can’t wait to give that heel a piece of my mind.  I should talk to his parents, too. I wonder if they know who...what they raised?”

“Arthur,” Mrs. Beal stands and places her hands on his shoulders.  “Arthur!” She says again, louder, hoping it will get him to focus. “First, we need to find our daughter.” 

“Where to start?  You said you had no idea where she ran off to.” 

“Aubrey and Stacie were here when she left.  They followed her out. Maybe one of them knows.”

“I’ll get Lundy.” 

XxxX

Mrs. Beale is anxious the whole way to the Posen mansion, but she tries to calm herself when Mrs. Posen answers the door. 

“Ann, what a delight.  What brings you by?” she asks, slipping past her butler to greet Mrs. Beale on the front steps.

“Lucille, I’m so sorry to come by unannounced, but I’m looking for Chloe and thought she might be at Aubrey’s.”

“Oh my!  You’re trembling.  Is everything all right?” 

“I think so,” Mrs. Beale manages to force out a chuckle.  “Maybe just a bit of pre-wedding jitters.” 

“Of course! Of course!  We all had them, didn’t we? It’s a big step.  Aubrey and Oliver live in Carnegie Hill, 90th and Madison.” 

Mrs. Beale can’t help but feel a little jealous at what Aubrey has, and what could have been for Chloe.  “How lovely. Well, I won’t keep you. And thank you for your help.” 

“Please do let us know if there’s anything we can do.  Chloe’s lovely and I’m sure everything is fine,” she rests a reassuring hand on Mrs. Beale’s arm.  “Good day, Ann.” 

“Thank you, Lucille.  Good afternoon to you.” 

Once Mrs. Beale is back in the car, Lundy zips them across the park and she’s out of the car before he even comes to a complete stop.  She doesn’t even wait to hear Mr. Beale begging her to calm down or to ask her to wait, and he barely makes it into the elevator before the doors close.

“Good lord, Ann. I was almost just split in two!” he scolds, straightening his cap. 

“That’s not a bad thing, Arthur. It would mean another body who could help find Chloe.” 

“Your sense of humor rears its head at the strangest times, Ann,” he says, just as the elevator dings on the 5th floor. 

Mrs. Beale speed walks down the corridor, reading off apartment numbers as she does.  “506...507...508...509…” She stops in front of 510 and knocks. 

“I’ll get it,” she hears from the other side of the door and she cocks her said to the side, trying to place the voice that isn’t Aubrey’s but…

“Stacie,” says Mrs. Beale, trying to hide her surprise and confusion.

But Stacie is too preoccupied to notice, trying to straighten her shirt and smooth out her just-fucked hair.   

From somewhere in the apartment, Mrs. Beale hears another voice, which she knows to be Aubrey’s.  “Who is it ba --” 

Stacie cuts her off with a loud, “Mrs. Beale!  What a surprise.”

“I could say the same, Stacie.  But good to see you as always. Is, um, Aubrey -- “

Aubrey’s voice is closer now, “Stace, honey, who is -- she stops herself short when Stacie swings the door open wider to reveal Mr. and Mrs. Beale, and prim, proper and polished as she is, she doesn’t miss a beat, even though she’s only wearing a long-kimono style robe, which she pulls tighter around her body. 

Somewhere in the back of Mrs. Beale’s head, Aubrey’s term of affection for Stacie and her dress -- or lack thereof -- registers as...odd, but confusion and concern block her from questioning it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Beale.  How lovely to see you.  Won’t you come in?” 

“Thank you, Aubrey, but we’re in a bit of a hurry.” 

“I see,” she says as she and Stacie exchange a worried glance.  

“Chloe’s not here by chance is she?” Mr. Beale pipes in.

Both Aubrey and Stacie know full well where Chloe is, but neither lets on.  “I’m afraid not, Mr. Beale,” says Aubrey. “I thought she’d be at home, seeing as how Henry and Oliver left for Belmont early this morning.  They wanted to catch the first race...”

Mrs. Beale’s heart breaks for Aubrey.  She’s so innocent and unassuming, but she hides her pity.  She’s not going to be the one to break the news to the girl, or even hint that anything is amiss.  “Is there a chance she went with them?” she asks hopefully. 

“I suppose it’s possible,” says Aubrey.  “But I certainly didn’t want to deal with any of that -- the heat, the stench, the flies, the mud…” She turns up her nose.  “So Stacie and I decided to have a girls’ day.” 

Stacie bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Aubrey’s answer is brilliant. It explains why Chloe isn’t with them, and she knows odds are good that the Beales won’t make the trip to Belmont to look for her, but it still buys them time to get dressed and get to Beca’s to warn them.  

She silently applauds them all for keeping this charade going for as long and as well as they have and vows to tell Aubrey -- or rather  _ show  _ her -- how much of a turn-on it is when she thinks on her feet. 

“Is everything all right?  Is Chloe all right?” Aubrey is, of course, concerned, but not for the same reason as the Beales.  She’s trying to think of the fastest way downtown. To Beca’s. 

“Oh yes, fine, girls,” Mrs. Beale waves a hand dismissively.  “I’m so sorry to worry you. She didn’t come home last night, and we just thought she might be here.” 

“I’m sorry, too, Mrs. Beale.  If there’s anything we can do…” 

“Thank you, both. I appreciate that.” There’s a pause that just starts to get awkward when Mrs. Beale speaks up “Well,” she sighs.  “You girls enjoy the rest of your day. I’m sure Chloe is at Belmont, so we’ll see her tonight,” she says, trying to sound reassuring. 

“When she comes home, Mrs. Beale, please tell her her to get in touch.  We’re overdue for lunch.” 

“Of course, girls.  Good day.” 

“Good day, Mrs. Beale.  Mr. Beale,” Stacie says as she closes the door. 

“Jesus Christ,” says Aubrey.  

“I know. That was hot.  The way you just came up with that excuse….” Stacie’s lips are on Aubrey’s neck in a flash and Aubrey succumbs to the sensation, throwing her head back to give Stacie more room work and she can’t help but moan, only to catch herself.  

“Stacie!” she says as she pushes her girlfriend off of her by the shoulders.  

Stacie looks started.  “Wha --?” 

“First, we just spent all morning doing...that!  And second, we have to find Chloe and Beca.” 

“We don’t have to find them, Aubrey,” she says, throwing Aubrey her bra and eyeing her greedily as she throws off the robe.  “We know exactly where they are In bed, which is exactly where we should be.” 

“Stacie! Please.  If this blows up for them, it blows up for us.  Keep it in your pants and let’s go. Now!”

XxxX

“The only thing we can do is wait, Ann.”  Mr. Beale says as he enters behind her and hangs his hat on the coat rack.  “I’ll get Anja to make you a nice cup of tea.” 

He escorts her to the chaise in the parlor and guides her down with a kiss to her cheek.  

“I’ll be right back.”  

XxxX

There is no answer at Beca’s. They’ve knocked.  They’ve yelled. And neither Beca nor Chloe have come to the door, so they know their friends aren’t just ignoring them in favor of amorous activity.

“Dammit,” says Aubrey.  “They’re gone!” 

“They could be anywhere,” says Stacie.

“Let’s check the park first,” Aubrey offers.  “And Chloe likes the cafe around the corner. Maybe they’re having a late lunch.”

They start off in the direction of the restaurant, but Stacie stops them dead in their tracks.  “Wait. What day is it?” 

“Friday.  Why?” 

“Beca has rehearsal today.” 

“What time?” 

Stacie checks her watch.  “Now! Maybe Chloe’s with Beca, listening in.”  She turns and takes a step forward. This time, it’s Aubrey stopping her.  “Remember before when you said you thought it was turn-on that I could think on my feet?”

Stacie eyes her and nods. 

“I see what you mean,,” Aubrey says, her voice low. 

“Shit,” Stacie whimpers.  “Let’s find these two so that you can tell me more about how turned-on you are.” She swears Aubrey growls as she tugs her into motion.

They make their way back uptown to Lincoln Center, poking their heads into rehearsal spaces and practice rooms, especially those where they can hear piano keys at work, but they come up empty.  

As they turn back down the hallway, “Stacie?  Aubrey? What are you doing here?” 

“Beca?” Stacie says as she swings around. 

“What’s going on? Did something happen with Chloe?” 

“Well, yes,” says Aubrey, hesitantly, knowing it was going to send Beca into a panic.  

“What? What’s happened? Where is she?” 

“Whoa!  Slow down,” says Stacie, putting one hand on Beca’s shoulder and the other tipping the cup she’s holding.  “What do you have in there anyway?” 

Aubrey swats Stacie’s hand away. “We’re not really sure what happened, Beca.  All we know is the Beales came by this morning looking for her.”

“Why?” 

“We don’t really know.”

“Well, what did you tell them? And what did they say when they saw the two of you together?” 

“One thing at a time.  We told them we didn’t know where she was.  That the boys had gone to Belmont and perhaps she went with them.” 

Beca takes a deep breath, and Aubrey can’t tell if she’s comfortable with the excuse she lobbed at the Beales, or not. 

Stacie jumps in.  “We thought that would buy us more time to you both down and fill you in.  We just came from your apartment.”

“Please tell us Chloe is here with you,” Aubrey pleads.

“No. No, she’s not.  She left me about...about an hour ago, I think.  Maybe more. She said she wanted to walk home since it’s such a nice day outside.”

“Oh my god.  She’s probably getting blindsided right now.  Let’s go,” says Aubrey, pulling Stacie along.

“Wait,” they both turn to look at Beca. “Wait for me. I’m coming with you. I need to make sure she’s OK.” 

“Beca, I don’t think --” 

“Aubrey, it wasn’t a question or a request.” 

Aubrey and Stacie exchange worried glances and walk towards the exit, Beca trailing behind them.  

XxxX

The front door slams and Mrs. Beale looks up to see Chloe standing in the doorway. 

“Mother,” she says, flatly. 

“Chloe!”  Mrs. Beale rushes to her, hands cupping her daughters cheek’s.  “My poor girl.” She pulls Chloe to her, burying her face in her daughter’s red hair. 

Mr. Beale reappears at the commotion with a cup of tea, a wave of relief passing over him quickly turning into anger and then sympathy.

“Chloe,” he says firmly, her head turning to his voice.  “Where were you last night? Your mother and I were worried about you.”  

She gently pushes her mother away.  “I spent the night at Aubrey’s.” 

And with those words, life as she knows it -- life as Beca, Aubrey, Stacie, Henry and Oliver know it -- unravels. 

“Chloe, we went to Aubrey’s this morning, looking for you.  You weren’t there.” The next words out of Mrs. Beale’s mouth nearly physically sicken her.  She hates to try and trick her daughter, but she needs to get to the bottom of this -- whether Chloe knows or whether she’s being played.  “If you’re sleeping with Henry, just tell us.”

“Fine,” Chloe says, trying not to let her panic show.  “Fine. I’m sleeping with Henry,” she admits, thinking it’s the lesser of two evils.  She holds her breath and braces for an impact that never comes. There’s only a whimper from Mrs. Beale, as Mr. Beale steps in to turn up the heat. 

“Aubrey said the boys left for Belmont this morning.” 

Chloe catches on a bit, but there’s only so much she can do at this point to fall into lock step with the story Aubrey fabricated.  She just knows everyone’s happiness hangs in the balance, so she tries her best to channel her friend. “That’s right. She’s right,” Chloe says, trying to find her confidence and make it all sound believable.  “They did.” 

“Then, where have you been? It’s nearly two.” 

The odds are against her.  The likelihood of her spitting back the same story Aubrey told is nearly zero.  Chloe’s eyes dart back and forth between her parents, uncomfortable in the silence surrounding all of them.  Silence that’s broken by the doorbell. 

Mrs. Beale sighs and walks past her husband and daughter to open it as Mr. Beale continues to probe.  “Are you cheating on Henry?” 

Chloe gasps. “No!  What is all this about?”  

Aubrey, Stacie and Beca, who are on the other side of the threshold can’t help but gasp at the question. Chloe’s eyes widen and she wonders what they -- especially Beca -- are doing at her house. 

“Ladies?”  Mr. Beale says, somewhat startled by their presence.

“Mrs. Beale, Mr. Beale.  We’re sorry to interrupt,” says Aubrey.  After you left my apartment, we got worried so we went out to look for Chloe, too. We’re glad to see she’s all right.” 

Chloe feels dizzy.  She knows she has absolutely no idea what’s going on, or what transpired this morning between her friends and her parents.  Worse, she knows she has no way to figure it out now. 

“Yes, she’s fine, and we appreciate your concern, but this is a family discussion.”    

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of them,” Chloe challenges -- a critical error in judgement, knowing Arthur Beale IV doesn’t walk away from a challenge.

“If that’s the way you want it, then so be it.” 

Mrs. Beale sobs and Chloe looks at her, still incredibly confused, but knowing nothing good will come out of this conversation.  

Mr. Beale continues.  “I saw Henry and Oliver,” he glances at Aubrey apologetically, “necking at the club earlier today, so I know they aren’t at Belmont.  Now, for the last time, do you care to explain what’s going on?”

Chloe shakes her head like this is a bad dream from which she’s trying to wake up.  The look on Aubrey and Stacie’s faces are heartbreaking. “I must,” she thinks, “look just like they do,” and she wishes the pain in her chest could kill her right here on the spot. 

Then, she locks eyes with Beca and Beca, who knows Chloe almost better than she knows herself, sees what she’s about to do.   

“Chloe, don’t.  Please. Don’t…” she pleads.  

“Chloe, it’s OK if you didn’t know,” her mother tries to soothe her. 

But Chloe’s trapped with no way out.  She can’t validate Aubrey’s story, and she’s run out of excuses.  Either way, the wedding is off and if she’s honest with herself, she’s tired.  Tired of running. Tired of covering her tracks. Tired of everyone telling her who she can and cannot love.  

Yes, she feels more than a moment of remorse for her friends, whose lives are about to get blown apart, but she also knows her parents won’t say anything to the Posens or the Conrads or the Colberts.  It will likely all unwind itself through the gossip mill, but she’s confident Arthur and Ann won’t be the ones to ignite the rumors or even fan the flames. God knows they’ll have enough to wrestle with on their own, beginning now.

Chloe takes a deep breath.  “I was with Beca,” she says, looking both of her parents squarely in the eye. “I love Beca.”  She blindly reaches out a hand, and Beca takes a step to Chloe’s side, threading their fingers together. 

“So...so, you knew?”  Mrs. Beale lashes out. “You knew about Henry?  This was all arranged? You manufactured all of this because...because...” Mrs. Beale squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head as if she's willing herself to wake-up from a nightmare.

“Chloe,” Mr. Beale says, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I thought we settled this when you were in college.”

“Settled what, Dad?  That I can't love who I love because it embarrasses you in front of your friends at the club?”

“Chloe, please,” Mrs. Beale pleads.  “Remember what it was like in Atlanta.”

Chloe remembers.  She remembers like it was yesterday.  She can't forget the way her heart broke -- it was pain she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy; not even on the two close-minded people standing before her -- and she swore she'd never let herself get to that point ever again.  She has to make it stop…

“Chloe,” her father interrupts her thoughts. “You can either say goodbye to your friends right now, or you can go with them but, if you do, you'll not be welcome back in this family.”

Chloe sobs, but she knows what she has to do, and her father gives her the outlet she needs to do just that.  She takes a deep breath.

“Aubrey, Stacie,” she wipes the tears from her eyes. “I've loved our time together and I wish you all the best.” 

Her arms are weak, but she hugs each of them.  They hug her back, floored with everything that has just transpired.

Then, Beca turns to Chloe.  She has no words. She just wraps her arms around the brunette and holds her close, burying her head in Chloe's neck and letting her lips brush the skin there, much as she did the very first time they met, nearly a year ago.  

Beca has been fighting back the tears until now, but feeling Chloe’s body against hers shatters her resolve.  She never wanted to believe what she said a few days ago, about Chloe giving up on them, but here she is, standing in Chloe's house, holding Chloe in her arms for the last time.  

“I'm sorry, Beca,” she rasps as Beca inhales.  She'll never be able to smell Rumeur again without thinking of Chloe.  She'll never be able to smell Rumeur again.

She gently pushes Chloe away.  Suddenly, she feels like the room is closing in.   Like she's suffocating. She needs Chloe to be away from her. She needs to just not be here.  She brings her hands to her face and completely breaks down, tears seeping in between her fingers and down the backs of her hands.

Chloe turns away.  She's crying just as hard as Beca and can't bear to watch the woman she loves in such a state, especially knowing she put her there.

Aubrey and Stacie, still very much shell shocked, each wrap an arm around Beca and guide her out.  Only Stacie turns back around and gives Chloe a small wave before shutting the door behind them.

Mrs. Beale bundles a whimpering Chloe into her arms and runs her fingers through her hair as she looks at her husband. They both sigh in relief that they've again saved Chloe -- and themselves -- from embarrassment.

Outside, Aubrey and Stacie sit Beca on a porch step as they try to make sense of what just happened and figure out what to do with a completely shattered, despondent Beca.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peaches & Herb said it best....  
> (And shout-out to TheXJames, who called it!)

“Hello, sweetheart,” Oliver says to Aubrey as he opens the door to his and Henry's apartment.

She slaps him hard across the face.  “What the fuck, Oliver?”

As he smooths a hand over his cheek, Henry comes to the door, “What the hell was that for?”

“That,” she said pushing her way inside,  “was for necking inside the club the other day.”

Oliver and Henry exchange knowing glances.  

“You two aren't as subtle or as sneaky as you think you are   Mr. Beale saw you and now he's forbidding Chloe to see any of us.  So, do you want to explain to me what I'm supposed to do with a sobbing, heartbroken Beca Mitchell?”

Oliver gasps.

“Not to mention what that means for the rest of us,” she continues.  “Both of your parents are bound to find out sooner rather than later.  Have you thought about how you'll explain this to them?”

“Aubrey,” says Henry gently, but firmly.  “Mr. Beale is mistaken. That wasn't us.”

Oliver looks at him, confused.

“Henry, Tom Reynolds was with him.  They both saw you.”

“Reynolds has been jealous of me since Chloe and I got together.  Everyone could see that. Plus, that hallway is always dark. Mr. Beale was just caught up in Reynolds's power of suggestion.  He made Mr. Beale see what he wanted him to.”

“Is that -- is that true?”

Henry laughs.  “No, Aubrey, but if it’s believable, that’s what should tell people.  It makes Mr. Beale look somewhat weak, but only in as much as it engenders some sympathy, and it keeps all of our noses clean.”

“And what about Tom?”

“Oh, it makes Tom look like the manipulative, jealous asshole that he is, and I don't really have a problem with that,” Henry says as he reaches for his hat.

“Wait!  Where are you going?” asks Oliver.  

“I'm going to see Chloe.  I need to apologize and make sure she's OK.”

“Oh no you don't,” Aubrey says, grabbing him by the back of his shirt collar.  “If I were you, I wouldn't go anywhere near the Beale house, or the club for that matter, unless you want your boyfriend here to be a widow.” 

XxxX

Chloe is alone in her room, sitting amid the letters Beca sent her while she was still living in London.  She re-reads every one, dropping them into a box when she’s done, and she cries, not for herself but for the way she knows she hurt Beca.

She's playing “Love, Your Spell is Everywhere,” on her record player and faintly singing along: 

_ Love your melody is in the air _

_ Yet I call you and you are not there _

_ Come here is my heart, my soul to mate _

_ Make me forget the voice that whispers "wait" _

Mrs. Beale pauses outside the door to listen and then knocks to offer Chloe some lunch, which she turns down.  By her mother’s count, it’s the 17th meal she's refused since she left Beca last week; she just hasn't had an appetite.

Mrs. Beale sits on the bed next to Chloe and puts an arm around her. 

“What are you doing, Chloe?”  She flips an envelope over to look at the return address, but Chloe grabs it back from her before she really has a chance to process who it’s from. 

“Getting rid of memories,” she says bitterly. 

“Oh, Chloe.  I'm so sorry.”

“But you're not, Mother.  Don't tell me you are. You made me leave Beca to protect yourselves from your snobby, uppity, judgy friends, my feelings be damned.”

“Chloe, you know that's not true “

“Do I?” 

“Of course, dear.  We only want what is best for you, and --”

“Beca.”

“What?  What about her?”

Chloe pulls away from her mother.  “Beca is what's best for me. She makes me…” Chloe catches her mistake…” _ made  _ me happy.  You took that away like it meant nothing.  But, I guess as long as one of us is still happy, then that’s all that matters, right?”

“Happy?  Happy? You think I’m happy?  I have a beautiful daughter does nothing but sit in her room and mope.”

“Mope?  Mother, you make me sound like a lovesick teenager.” 

“Well, then stop acting like one.  This thing with Beca was a - a silly little crush.  It was nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing, Mother.  It was everything. You took everything I loved.  Imagine if I took Dad, your Ladies Auxiliary meetings, your tendency to butt in on everyone else’s business?” 

Mrs. Beale looks shocked. 

“Where would you be then?”  She waits a beat and when her mother doesn’t respond, “That’s what I thought.” 

Chloe gets up without even so much looking her mother and walks out of the room, leaving her sitting alone on the bed.

Chloe’s feet immediately and automatically carry her in the direction of Beca’s, but it’s after a few familiar blocks she realizes that Beca’s apartment -- along with Beca -- is now off limits.  Instead, she makes her way to the park and sits on a bench, watching in misery as the happy couples go by. 

XxxX

Aubrey and Stacie have been holed up at Beca's, afraid of what she might (or might not) do if left to her own devices.  As it is now, neither woman can get the brunette to eat. She just stays in her room all day, strumming her guitar until her fingers gravitate to the notes -- and they always seem to find their way there -- of the song she is --  _ was --  _ writing for Chloe.  Each pluck of the strings feels like they're pinging off her heart, and she can only play for a few seconds before the tears start to cloud her focus.

Stacie's parents have been kind enough to offer their home to whomever needs it, but Aubrey just wants to be away from all parents, lest she be reminded of her relationship -- or lack thereof -- with hers.  She was never particularly close with her mother and father; they were more concerned with their social lives than with their children, none of whom are particularly close either. This incident just naturally splintered them all further apart, thankfully without a lot of yelling or fighting.  But she’s fine with the outcome because she has Stacie. And Stacie’s family, who she really does adore -- just not at this moment. At this moment, she needs space, peace and quiet to figure where she, where they  _ all,  _ go from here. 

Occasionally Henry and Oliver stop by.  They feel guilty for letting their lust get in the way, but “somehow or another this was going to come to an end,” says Henry.  “And no one knew just when or how. It happened to be us, but it could have easily been you two,” he points at Aubrey and Stacie, “or those two,” gesturing to Beca’s bedroom.  

“But it wasn’t us or them,” says Stacie.  “It was you two. It will always be you.” 

“A plague on both of our houses, then I guess?” Henry says, growing irritated and Oliver steps in to intervene.  

“Ladies, gents.  Please. Look, we’ve caused enough commotion among our families, let’s not turn on each other. 

“He’s right,” says Aubrey. 

“Thank you,” he acquiesces, sitting back on the couch and pulling Henry with him.  

His parents, who relocated to Scarsdale shortly after the wedding, haven’t yet found out.  They’ve been shielded from the gossip and, while his mother still counts among her friends women at the club who would have heard this story, no one was going to ask her to her face whether her son is a homosexual, so any conversation about it died as soon as she walked into a room.  But it in Oliver’s head, it’s not a question of if, but when. He’s counting down the days until his parents learn what their son has been doing... _ who  _ their son has been doing.  

On the other hand, Henry’s unplanned coming out didn’t much seem to phase his parents, who said they were actually more surprised when he brought a girl home.  They and his older brother were surprisingly supportive, not just of him but the whole group and especially Chloe. While that’s a huge weight lifted from his shoulders, he still carries around the burden of knowing he sabotaged at least two relationships, and possibly three, if Oliver’s parents don’t react well, because he was being selfish.  He feels like he needs to do something to repent, to try and make things right, or at least get things back on track for all of them, but especially for Beca and Chloe. 

After a contemplative moment, he speaks up,  “Do you think we should try to reunite them?” 

“Chloe and Beca?” Aubrey asks incredulously. 

Henry swallows hard and merely nods in response to Aubrey’s tone.  

Aubrey shakes her head.  “It’s romantic, I’ll give you that, but I think Chloe’s parents have her on complete lock-down.” 

“Lock-down?” says Oliver.  “She’s not an inmate at Rikers for god sakes.” 

“Do you want to tell that to Arthur Beale?” Stacie challenges.

Oliver motions for Aubrey to continue, “And that one,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Beca’s room, “is as stubborn as blood stain.” 

“Really, Aubrey?  You’re comparing your lifelong friend to a blood stain?” 

“If the metaphor fits…” Aubrey says.  “Anyway, I don’t know that she’d go back to Chloe on principle alone, no matter how much she missed her. And I’m not sure I blame her.” 

“Well, should we try?  I feel like it's the least we can do. To try to make it up to them and so that we’re all together again,”  Henry tries not to sound as desperate as he feels.

“What do you have in mind?”  

XxxX

“Chloe!”

Chloe jumps at the mention of her name, not expecting anyone to call out for her as she’s heading down to the subway. 

“Stacie?  Stacie. Oh my god!” She wraps Stacie in a huge hug.  “I missed you!”

“I missed you too.  We all miss you, Chloe.  How are you?” 

“As well as can be expected, I guess.  How are you? And....everyone?” she asks awkwardly.

Stacie smiles, knowing exactly what -- or who -- Chloe meant when she asked her question.  “Beca is...well, she’s sad, Chloe. Heartbroken, really. She loved you, and that’s big for Beca, she doesn’t -- ”

“Loved?”

“What?” Stacie asks, not quite sure what Chloe means.  

“You said she loved me.” 

Stacie nods.

“She doesn’t anymore?” 

“I -- I don’t know, Chloe.  You’d have to talk to her about that,” Stacie shrugs.  “Look, let’s have some lunch. Are you free now?”

“Yes, sure,” she says, trying to shake the sadness from her voice.  

“Are you sure?  You weren’t headed anywhere…?”

“Just an errand for my mother, but nothing urgent. Lunch would be good.” 

“Great.  Let’s go.”  Stacie leads them down the stairs, on to the subway platform. 

“So, did you just happen to arrive at the subway the same time I did or….?”

Stacie only smiles and tugs Chloe onto the subway as the doors open.   

Further downtown, Aubrey is pleading with Beca, unsuccessfully, to take a walk with her to the park. 

“Why can’t Stacie go with you?”  Beca pouts.

“She’s getting some ingredients for dinner tonight, but it’s a beautiful day and you could do with some fresh air.”

Beca only scrunches her face up in response, so Aubrey continues.  “They fixed the piano in the greenhouse at the park. Maybe you could play there for a little.”

She watches the way Beca’s eyes brighten at the suggestion. It’s been so long since her friend played, and she knows she’s aching to do it.  She also knows it reminds her of Chloe. The way Chloe would sit next to her on the piano bench, her hand on Beca’s leg, thighs and shoulders touching.  The way Chloe would sigh and rest her head against Beca’s arm. The way she’d sometimes sing along. Aubrey always wished she could preserve those moments because they were so sweet and tender and radiated love.  Never because she anticipated needing to look back on them for comfort in a time like this. 

“Fine,” Beca says, stomping her foot like a petulant child, but Aubrey knows she’s grateful for an excuse to leave the apartment and her thoughts behind.   

Stacie and Chloe are nearing the park when Chloe is suddenly flooded with memories of Beca, kissing her here, feeling her delicate fingers on her back, in her hair, intertwined with hers at their sides.  It’s overwhelming and for a moment, she wonders why Stacie brought her down this street, knowing how close it is to Beca. To...everything. 

She’s just about to ask Stacie why they’re in Beca’s neighborhood when she hears it -- the sounds of a piano coming from the greenhouse.  Her first, most immediate thought is that she needs to tell Beca it’s finally fixed after being broken for several months -- she’ll be so excited.  Her next thought is that she can’t do that. Not anymore. 

Stacie seems to know what she’s thinking and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders pulling her close when Chloe’s eyes go wide, and she recognizes the familiar song --  _ their  _ song. 

It’s true.  Beca can’t help but play it. Her plan was to sing it to Chloe at their wedding, as a gift.  Part of her still wants so badly to finish it, but she just can’t bring herself to write the rest, so she just plays the same few stanzas over and over again until her fingers ache from the repetitive  motion. 

On this particular day, she happens to transition into “Love, Your Spell Is Everywhere,” and it stops Chloe in her tracks.  It’s not so much the coincidence that startles her. She’s taken aback by the fact that she  _ knows  _ that Beca is the one playing.  She can just  _ feel  _ it, feel the way she plays, the emotion she puts into every note and it breaks her heart all over again. So much so that she doesn’t feel in control of her feet. They’re carrying her into the greenhouse to see Beca, sitting at the piano, losing herself in the music the same way she used to lose herself in Chloe.  

“Beca!” 

Beca recognizes the voice, of course, but she doesn’t look up.  She can’t look up. She merely stops playing and drops her hands to her lap, rubbing them against her thighs. 

Stacie, who’s followed Chloe inside, trades a hopeful glance with Aubrey as Chloe approaches the piano.  “Beca, I’m so sorry.”

Beca only shakes her head, “no,” and tears well up in Chloe’s eyes.  She’s desperate. “Please, Beca. Please just let me --”

But before she can finish her plea, Beca rushes out.  Aubrey throws a worried look over her shoulder at Stacie, who only shrugs and walks to Chloe’s side.  Chloe, who looks completely stunned that Beca -- her Beca, who would do absolutely anything for her -- wouldn’t even give her a second glance much less a chance to explain. 

She takes a deep breath and tries to fight back more tears that threaten to spill.  She’s done little else today but ride the subway and converse with Stacie, but she feels like she’s worked a full day of hard physical labor.   She turns to leave the greenhouse, and Stacie starts to follow, but Chloe holds up a hand, to keep Stacie in her place. 

It’s then that Henry and Oliver pop in with hopeful looks on both of their faces. 

“Well?” asks Oliver quietly. 

Stacie only shakes her head and their expressions fall.  

“Where is she?” Henry steps in.

“She went into the park,” Stacie says, turning her body in the direction of the exit. 

Henry finds Chloe sitting near the fountain.  At first he doesn’t say anything. He only sits down next to her and opens his arms so she can bury her head in his chest.  

After a few moments of stroking her hair, he kisses her head.  “All hope isn’t lost, you know,” he says confidently. 

And to his surprise and delight, she looks up at him and smiles. 

“Does that mean you’re ready?”  he asks hesitantly.

“So ready.” 

XxxX

Chloe is in her room, thumbing through her massive collection of albums, picking out certain ones and dropping them into boxes. 

Mrs. Beale, dressed to the nines, pokes her head in to tell Chloe that she and her father are leaving for an evening of dinner and dancing.  

It’s been nearly two weeks since Chloe left Beca and her parents are finally starting to relinquish their grip on her, giving her a little more freedom to go out and socialize, not that Chloe feels much like doing that in the first place, but she at least feels less like a prisoner knowing she has the option. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, dear?”  her mother asks.

“Certain, Mother.  Thank you.” 

“Well, what will you do all evening alone?”  

Chloe thinks she emphasizes the word “alone” and she smiles to herself because she wouldn’t be all that surprised if her parents came home to check on her and make sure she didn’t have any guests, like she was some horny teenager. 

“For now, I’m sorting and organizing my albums, tossing the ones I no longer listen to.  Later, I’m sure I’ll get some dinner and maybe go for a walk...if it ever stops raining.”   She peers out of the curtains in her bedroom to see the same grey sky and wet pavement that have lingered all day.  Not ideal conditions, but also not enough to thwart her true plans for the evening. At least she hopes not.

Her mother looks at her with pity, but does little else to offer any more comfort.  She’s made it clear that she thinks Chloe should be over Beca, over this whole thing, by now and can’t understand why she doesn’t seem to want to move past it.  What Mrs. Beale doesn’t realize is that Chloe isn’t trying to get over Beca. She’s trying to recover from the sting of her parents telling their their love is conditional.  With that now at the forefront of her mind, she has a newfound clarity and determination for what she’s about to do. It actually hurts far less than she expected it would.

“All right then, Chloe.  As you wish. Enjoy your night.”  

Chloe watches from her bedroom window as their car speeds off around the corner and she sighs a nervous sigh.      

Just then, there’s a distinct knock near the help’s entrance. She smiles, rushing downstairs to the door at the back of the house.  How she heard it from her room was beyond her, but she just shrugs and is grateful she did. It’s a sign, she supposes, that this was meant to be.

When she flings open the door, Henry is there and, unexpectedly, Oliver as well.  

“I hope it’s OK that I brought the ball and chain,” chides Henry. “I thought we could use the extra hands.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes and laughs, and at first, Henry isn’t sure what he’s said to get that reaction, but then Oliver chimes in. “Aren’t hands what got us into this mess in the first place, let alone extras?” 

Henry finally catches on, “I don’t think it was just hands, darling.  Now, stop with the dirty talk and let’s get moving. The last thing we need is for Mr. Beale to catch us anywhere near this block.” 

They follow Chloe into the house and up to her room.  She points to the closet. “Everything in there goes. And these boxes too,” she says gesturing to a stack of smaller boxes near her dresser.” 

“Chloe, I thought you said you were taking just a few things?  This is practically everything.” 

“It is everything.  Everything that was hers...and ours.”

“Priceless then, huh?” says Oliver as he carries a box down the stairs.   

Chloe nods.  Henry places a large box at her feet and kisses her.  “You know we never meant to hurt you. Or Beca. Or Aubrey or Stacie for that matter.   We just got carried away, but we only want the best for you.” 

“I know.  I don’t blame you at all.” 

“You don’t?  Good because I don’t think I could stand to live in a world in which Chloe Beale is mad at me, or thinks ill of me.” 

“No such thing.  And thank you for your help with all of this.”

“Well, you needed a little muscle,” he says, winking.  

“Not just moving all of this stuff…” she trails off a bit, becoming a bit shy.  “You know, convincing me to do this. Convincing me I  _ could  _ do this. “ 

“Good luck, Chloe,” he kisses her on the cheek.  “Even though I know you won’t need it.” 

XxxX

Chloe knocks on the door and then takes a step back to smooth out her skirt and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.  She hears the doorknob turn and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for it all -- for seeing Beca again, for what she’s about to do. So it’s a surprise, and frankly a bit of a disappointment, when Aubrey’s standing before her. 

“Aubrey!” 

“Chloe,” she says, somewhat curtly. “What can I do for you?” 

“I came to see Beca.” 

"I’m sorry, Chloe, but I’m not sure she wants to see you.” 

Chloe fully expected this.  She planned for it. That’s why when Henry and Oliver loaded all of her boxes and other belongings into the car, she asked them not to take everything. 

She hefts a huge suitcase in front of her.  "I think she might."

Just then, Beca comes to the door.  “Who is it?” She pokes her head under Aubrey’s arm and the way she looks, well, Chloe  _ wasn’t  _ prepared for that.  Yes, she looks tired and maybe a little sad, but her hair falls over her shoulders in soft curls and the greyish-blue shirt she’s wearing matches her eyes almost perfectly.  It hugs her body, the way Chloe wishes she could right now, making her instantly recall the way Beca’s skin felt on hers and how good she felt writhing under her. 

Beca wants to look away from Chloe, but she can’t.  She never could. From the first moment she saw Chloe across the dance floor, she knew she was different.  Knew she had to have her. What she didn’t know and couldn’t anticipate was that things between them would end up like this.  She has to remind herself that Chloe didn’t intentionally hurt her. She's had a lot of competing pressures. If anything, she’s maybe a little embarrassed for so foolishly thinking their little circle of friends and lovers would be enough for Chloe. So over the last few days, after their encounter at the greenhouse, she’s tried -- really tried -- to forgive Chloe. “It’s OK, Aubrey,” Beca says, waiting for Aubrey back away so Beca could step into the hall and close the door. 

“How are you, Chloe?” she asks softly.  Cautiously. 

Chloe doesn’t even bother to answer the question.   If she’s going to do this, then she has to just do it.  “Did you really think I was going to choose them?” 

Beca, expecting a “Fine” or “OK” or even a “Terrible,” given the circumstances, looks stunned at Chloe’s question.  She doesn’t really know what to say, so Chloe fills the void between them. 

"I only went home to get my things.  The record player you gave me. The records.  All the letters you wrote me. They're priceless,” says Chloe, hoping she’s getting through to Beca.  “I knew if I didn't go right then and there, they'd never let me back in the house. And when I went back, they didn’t want to let me out of their sight.  I couldn't let on that I was even considering still being with you,” Chloe takes a step forward. “But Beca, I never  _ stopped  _ considering it.  I never ever thought about anything else but us being together." She gently takes Beca’s hands in hers and watches the pain in the brunette’s face shift to confusion or maybe disbelief.

Beca’s eyes soften and her jaw relaxes.  “But Chloe, they’re your parents. Your family.”   

“Two weeks ago, my parents proved they loved me, but only on their terms.  Ridiculous terms. But you -- we love each other regardless. Because of and in spite of everything. I have my family, Beca.  It’s you. All of you, even though I know Aubrey probably doesn’t think much of me right now.”

She smiles when she feels Beca squeeze her hands, encouraging her.  “She loves you, Chloe. We all do. She’s just a little protective, but I know she’ll come around. This was kind of a big blow to all of us.”

“I know and I’m sorry.  I hated hurting everyone -- especially you,” Chloe takes another step forward into Beca’s space and drapes her arms over the brunette’s shoulders. “But it was the only way I could finally get what I wanted.” 

“Which is…?” Beca smirks. 

“To be with you.  To be your wife. That’s what I want more than anything,” she rests her forehead on Beca’s.  “That is, if you'll still have me.”

She waits.  Her eyes search Beca’s for acknowledgement.  A response. Something. Anything to say that she’s forgiven, but it never comes.  Chloe turns around and starts to leave, embarrassed and devastated, when she feels an arm wrap around her waist and spin her so she is back, face-to-face with a smiling Beca.   

Before Chloe can ask what this means, Beca's soft lips are on hers, kissing her tenderly but firmly.  Chloe can feel all the emotion -- the anguish, the heartbreak, and the love -- in that kiss and she can't help but smile into it, which makes Beca smile again, too, so big that it's almost not even a kiss between them anymore.  

It's only what Chloe always wanted.  It's everything.

XxxX END XxxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. This brings us to the unofficial end of "Lavender." Just an epilogue left and then I'll release you all from this crazy train. Thanks for all the positive comments along the way -- they're an excellent motivator!


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of everything to close out this story for good.

**Seven years later…**

The applause are thunderous, and Chloe has never been more proud.  This piece that Beca -- her Beca -- debuted tonight at Lincoln Center has been a labor of love for the last nearly four years and she is thrilled to finally see it performed all the way through.  It's called “Black and White,” so named Beca says because it was what she was wearing the night she met the love of her life and because life is anything but. 

A little cynical? Maybe, but Chloe loves it and is truly in awe that her wife could compose something so wonderfully intricate and complex.

As the noise in the theatre settles and the crowd starts to disperse, Chloe gathers her things and makes her way to the lobby, where she'll meet Beca so they can celebrate this huge event in their lives.  Beca initially protested the plans. She wanted to wait until the reviews came in before she would consider any of it a success, but Chloe wouldn't hear of it, so they are meeting Aubrey, Stacie, Henry and Oliver for dinner in about 20 minutes.

Chloe is touching up her make-up when she hears her name. It isn’t Beca; the voice is a little too weak and uncertain.  It is familiar though, but she can't place it until she turns.

Her mouth falls open at the sight, though she quickly wills it closed so as not to be rude or obvious.

“Mother,” she says in disbelief.  “Dad.”

“Oh, Chloe.” Her mother is near tears, and Chloe, despite everything, instinctively reaches out to embrace her before she feels a tug at the side of her pants.

She looks down, Mrs. Beale following her gaze, her eyes landing on a young boy with bright blue eyes, a dusting of ginger-colored freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and a mop of red curls -- the spitting image of Chloe.

Mrs. Beale gasps at the sight and her eyes threaten to flood with tears once again.

“Who's this young man?” Mr. Beale asks.

Chloe smiles and wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders.  “This is Henry. Say hello, Henry.”

Little Henry extends a hand.  “Pleased to meet you, Sir. Ma'am.”

“Henry? So you...you married the Colbert boy then?”  Mr. Beale asks his daughter. 

“No, Dad.  Henry is with Oliver.  I’ve been married to Beca Mitchell for five -- almost six -- years now.  Henry is our son.”

“I have a--a grandson?” Mrs. Beale asks with an odd mix of pleasant disbelief and confusion.

“Technically.  I suppose,” says Chloe.

“But...but... how?” 

Chloe knows her parents aren’t in need of a biology lesson and so she recounts the events in her life since she wrote them out of it and, by default, her child’s. 

_ The wedding was everything Chloe dreamed of.  It wasn’t big. It wasn’t fancy. It was sweet and emotional and incredibly personal.  They were surrounded by friends who truly loved them and supported them.  _

_ If she’s being honest, Chloe doesn’t remember many of the details of the day.  She can really only recall the big, significant flashes: seeing Beca at the end of the aisle, looking nervous but beautiful in an elegant black dress that ended at the knee; their first kiss as wives -- it was firm, but tender and sweet, and Chloe can still feel Beca’s hands at her back, holding her close; their first dance together to ‘their’ song.  Beca had finally completed and recorded “A Hundred Years From Today” -- her wedding gift to Chloe -- just as she promised, and Chloe vividly recalls Beca twirling her around the dance floor as her fingertips gently smoothed up and down her spine and she sang softly in her ear:  _

So laugh and sing, make love the thing

Be happy while you may

There's always one, beneath the sun

Who's bound to make you feel that way

_ “In case you didn’t know,  you’re the one, Chlo,” Beca said sweetly, brushing her lips across Chloe’s before letting the redhead nuzzle into her neck.   _

_ Memories of their very first dance come flooding back and Chloe thinks about how different her life would be if she didn’t let Beca walk her home that Halloween night, didn’t let her join their hands, didn’t tease her.  _

_ She lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder to look her wife in the eyes -- beautiful, soulful eyes -- and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. _

_ “Happy?”  Beca asks.  _

_ Chloe can only nod, afraid that if she opens her mouth to speak, she’ll cry for what she’s lost over the last year and everything that she’s gained -- possibly more than she could have ever imagined.  _

_ With one last graceful spin around the dance floor the song ends and Beca again kisses Chloe, lingering on her lips long enough to fluster her blushing bride, who pulls away laughing.  “Save that for later, you.” She winks and untangles their fingers, moving to Aubrey and Stacie.  _

_ Beca watches her go, biting her lip as she allows herself to think, for one fleeting moment, about all the ways she wants to make love to Chloe on their wedding night.  _

Of course, Chloe doesn’t share any of those details with her parents, but the mere mention of their wedding calls to mind the way celebrated that night, several times if she's being honest.

_ Chloe carefully settled herself in between Beca’s legs, sideways, at first just brushing her pussy against her wife’s, gasping at how soaked they both were.   _

_ She reached down to spread herself, watching as Beca did the same, and she moaned when they finally connected in such a deeply intimate way. _

_ Beca brought her hands up to Chloe’s hips to hold her steady as she started to rock herself against the brunette, the sound coming from between their legs, downright dirty and such a turn-on, as if either needed any help.  _

_ From her position beneath Chloe, Beca let her hand trail up Chloe’s left side and weave around the hand and then the arm that was planted firmly on her stomach for balance.  She could just about reach Chloe’s breast, squeezing it lightly and drawing a squeak from the woman that probably shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was in that moment.  _

_ Chloe rested her hand over Beca’s, applying even more pressure to her own breast, which matched the pressure building low in her belly.   When she moved her hand to change the angle of how her clit was rubbing Beca’s, she gripped the brunette’s knee to steady herself.  _

_ With her hand free, Beca stroked the tip of Chloe’s nipple with her thumb drawing it out.  Then, keeping Chloe in place, Beca sat up, wrapping her legs around Chloe to keep their pussies together and turning Chloe’s body so that Beca could put her mouth on her more fully.   _

_ The delicate scent of Rumeur surrounded Beca as she tucked her head into Chloe’s chest, her nose right up against her breast bone and surrounding her as much as she could with wet warmth.  Her tongue flicked at the stiff peak as Chloe continued to rock herself against Beca, who was losing herself and her self control in the cadence of Chloe’s soft, steady grunts.  _

_ Pulling the redhead closer, Beca reached across Chloe’s body to take the other nipple in her mouth, wrapping her lips around it and sucking, gently at first until Chloe arched her back and pushed further into Beca, practically begging for more.  And who was Beca to deny her?  _

_ She curled around the sweet, rosy tip, bathing it with her tongue, then nipping at it, feeling how it swelled for her and loving the way Chloe squirmed for more.  _

_ With one hand on the bed behind her, Beca pressed herself up into Chloe, squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation that shot straight up her spine, causing her hips to buck as she slid against her wife.   _

_ She repeated the motion, holding herself there so she could feel Chloe’s clit pulsing against hers,.  When she couldn’t bear her own weight any longer, she reclined back on to her elbows, content to watch the woman on top of her her eyes closed, hands on her breasts, riding her. _

_ Beca gripped the redhead’s hips again to hold her in place, the increasing slickness between the two of them making it difficult to maintain pressure on one another.  She loved the way Chloe felt any time they made love but this, this was different. It was a closeness, a level of intimacy she had never experienced and, oh god, was it hot to watch her beautiful wife between her legs, rolling her hips over and over, rubbing herself -- and Beca -- to climax.  _

_ “How do you want to come, Chlo?” asked Beca, straining against the force of her impending orgasm.  _

_ “Just like this.  I want…” her request interrupted by a moan, “I want to come on your pussy.” _

_ Beca could only growl at Chloe’s words and she happily resigned herself to letting Chloe take what she wanted, letting her do whatever she needed to do to get them both over the edge.   _

_ “Come with me, Beca,” she breathed out, creating just enough space between the two of them to roll Beca’s clit under her fingers.  Once. Twice. It didn’t take long before Beca felt Chloe stiffen, followed by a stream of warmth over her pussy as Chloe found her release -- right on Beca, the way she wanted.   _

_ The increased wetness from her wife aimed right at her clit, whether on purpose or by accident (but did it really matter?), was enough to make Beca clench her thighs together on either side of Chloe and Chloe, using Beca’s knee as leverage, beared down to give the brunette something more sturdy to rut against.  It was only a second or two later that Beca’s head dropped back against the pillow, letting her eyes fall closed and the pleasure of coming on her wife, take her over.  _

_ With her very next breath, Beca wrapped her arms around Chloe's shoulders, splaying her fingers across her back as she guided her down to the mattress, dotting tiny, soft kisses all over her face, neck, chest and shoulders. _

_ Chloe could only smile dreamily at the love she felt from Beca.  She brought her arms up to wrap around her wife and hold her closer, whispering “I love you.  So, so much,” into the crook of her neck. _

“It sounds like a lovely wedding, Chloe,” says her mother, snapping Chloe back to reality, and Chloe has to remind herself what they were discussing before she let her mind wander to thoughts of making love to Beca.  

“It was.  It is. Beca and Henry are…” she smiles.  “My world.”

Reluctantly Mr. Beale mirrors the look on his daughter’s face, the way she’s beaming as she talks about the life she’s created for herself and her family.  Deep down, he’s proud of Chloe, but he can't quite bring himself to say the words out loud so he focuses his attention on Little Henry, sticking out his tongue and making the boy smile.

“And what about this young man?” asks Mrs. Beale.  She looks down at the little boy. “How old are you, Henry?”

“I'm five years old, Ma'am,” he says, beaming, holding up five fingers.  

Chloe squats down next to him, “Henry, love, this is your grandma,” she points to her mother.  “And your grandad.”

He smiles at them politely but, in the midst of two strangers, hugs closer to Chloe  

Her mother, not wanting Henry to overhear leans in to ask, “So, did you adopt him when he was a baby?” 

Chloe pulls back.  “Adopt? No mother, Henry’s mine. Mine and Beca’s.”  

Mr. and Mrs. Beale look at her questioningly.  “But, Chloe,” says Mrs. Beale. “We all know that’s not possible, and this boy had to come from somewhere.”

“I don’t really want to get into this here, Mother, in front of….” she gestures to the little boy.  “Henry agreed to father our baby, and he’s an excellent influence, but little Henry lives with Beca and me. We’re his parents. As far as he's concerned, Henry is his uncle. ” 

_ Beca is at the piano, tinkering, playing whatever song comes to mind.  She's teasing Chloe, who's singing, trying to stump her, but Chloe holds her own until Beca plays something utterly ridiculous.  It makes her giggle -- the giggle that brings out Beca’s most real smile -- and she flops on the piano bench with her back to the keys, sighing. “I hope our kid has your musical talent.” _

_ Chloe says it so casually, like she's talking about the weather or the errands she has to do, but Beca can't escape the weight of the comment. It's so heavy and sudden that it knocks her hands from the piano keys, creating a dissonance in the room that surprises them both. _

_ Beca blinks up at Chloe.  “ You want a baby?” She swallows hard.  “You want to have a baby with me?” _

_ “Of course, sweetheart.” Her face falls when she realizes she might be projecting on Beca.  “Is that...do you not want --?” _

_ “What?  Oh no, no, no.  I absolutely want that with you, Chloe, I just don't know how we...you know.” She leans over to Chloe and, cupping the redhead's chin in her hand, kisses her soundly, making her purr.  When Chloe pulls back, licking her lips, Beca smirks, “I mean I'm good, but not  _ that _ good.” _

_ Chloe groans and gently pushes at Beca’s shoulder.  It thrills her that, even though they're married, Beca still likes to flirt.  “But seriously, Chloe, have you thought about how we would do this? Who would carry the baby? Those sorts of things.” _

_ “Yes, I have.  I’ve thought about it a lot.  If it’s OK with you, I thought maybe I’d be the one to get pregnant,” Chloe says, searching Beca’s face for any sign of disagreement.  “I've...I've always dreamed of having a baby.” _

_ Beca runs her hand through Chloe's hair and tucks a red strand behind her ear.  “If that's what you want, Chlo, we'll make it happen.” _

_ “I thought maybe Henry...” _

_ Beca looks confused.  “Henry what? What about him? _

_ “Well, he could be the father.  I mean, not in the parental sense.  Just in terms of...biology.” _

_ Beca is silent.  She's looking down, wringing  her hands, and it twists at Chloe.  “Beca? Beca, look at me.” _

_ Beca looks up at Chloe.  “You already talked to him about it?” _

_ “No, of course not.  I wouldn't do that without you.  It just came up one day and he said he would do it if we ever asked.” _

_ “That's nice of him.  I just…” _

_ “What Beca?  Talk to me.” Chloe swings her leg over the piano bench so she’s straddling it.  Beca does the same so they’re now facing each other and she takes Chloe’s hands.  _

_ “I just don't know if I can handle you and Henry having to, you know.  You know. You know?” _

_ Chloe laughs her sweet laugh that still stirs things up in Beca.  “That was quite a sentence, sweetie. And I understand how you feel,” she says as she turns Beca’s hands over, palms up, and rubs them with her thumbs.  “It’s honestly not high on my list either and I think Henry would probably say the same. But, if this is what we really want, I don’t see another way around it.”  _

_ Beca sighs, resigned until her head snaps up. “No!  There is another way.” _

_ “You said it yourself, Beca.  You’re good, but you’re not that good.”  _

_ “Exactly,” she winks.  “But I read an article about a doctor here in New York who is testing out a new method to get women pregnant who otherwise can’t.  I don’t know much more about it, but perhaps it’s worth exploring?” _

_ Chloe surges forward and plants her lips on Beca, early knocking her off the bench backwards with the force of her kiss.  “I love you, Beca.”  _

_ “I love you too, Chloe, and I want you to be happy,” she mumbles against’ her wife’s lips, smiling.  _

_ XxxX _

_ A month later, they are sitting in Dr. Albertson’s office nervously awaiting their consult.   _

_ Three months later, they are back with Henry to collect his “contribution,” and six months after that, Chloe is on her knees in front of the toilet, throwing up the contents of her stomach, which at 5:30 a.m. is mostly just stinging, bitter bile.   _

_ This is the fourth morning in a row that it’s happened, so she knows it’s not the flu.  _

_ Beca comes in, eyes still slits, and rubs Chloe’s back as she wretches.  When she sits back on her haunches, Beca is there with a cool washcloth for her neck and forehead and a bit of water to rinse the taste from her mouth. _

_ “What the hell is wrong with me?” Chloe whimpers. "Do you think...?" _

_ “Yeah, I think you’re pregnant, Chlo," says Beca, kissing Chloe's temple.  _

_ “Ugh, don’t kiss me. I probably smell like puke.”  _

_ Little does Beca know, “don’t” will be a common refrain over the next nine months.  “Don’t touch me,” “Don’t kiss me,” “Don’t make eggs. The smell makes me nauseous.” “I don’t want to have sex,” “Don’t buy any more ice cream,” and then, at 3 a.m., “Do we have any ice cream?” _

_ It’s OK, though.  It’s worth it to Beca because while the swollen feet and sweating and sleepless nights are sometimes rough on both of them, the end result is going to be simply miraculous.  _

_ Chloe is in her seventh month and she feels about as big as a freight train.  Beca, on the other hand, thinks she looks absolutely beautiful; loves her little belly and always has a protective hand over it.  _

_ It’s August and the heat is unbearable in the city, so they pack a few bags and take the train to  the Hamptons for the next few weeks to wait out the rest of the summer at the beach.  _

_ The cool salt breeze does wonders for Chloe’s nausea and because the Irvings are there to help with cooking and cleaning, Chloe can truly rest and relax.  She spends most of her days on the deck of the house or on the beach, with her feet in the Atlantic, reading under a large umbrella. Beca is never far from her side, her hand unconsciously smoothing over Chloe’s protruding stomach as she looks out over the ocean.   _

_ Chloe notices her pensive stare.  “Penny for your thoughts?”  _

_ Beca smiles.  “Just wondering what this little one is going to be like and how we’re going to be as parents.”  _

_ Chloe places her hand over Beca’s, threading her fingers through the spaces between her wife’s.   “I hope he or she is a mix of you -- your creativity, your sense of humor, your strength -- and me…” _

_ “Your compassion, your conviction, your joy.”   Beca leans over to kiss Chloe only to feel a kick from right above Chloe’s belly button.  They both look down.  _

_ “Baby really doesn’t like when I do that, does it?” _

_ “But how does it know? Super baby powers, maybe?”  _

_ “Let’s hope it uses those powers for good -- like sleeping through the night and changing its own diapers.” _

_ XxxX _

_ Henry George Mitchell Beale was born on September 29, 1935 at 5:54 in the evening.  Henry and Oliver were the first to welcome him, followed by Stacie and a pregnant Aubrey -- thanks to Oliver and Dr. Albertson -- who would give birth to Eleanor (“Ellie”) Conrad about four months later in the early morning of January 6, 1936.  As they got older, Henry would forever tease Ellie about her being a year younger.  _

_ When Beca held Henry for the first time, it was like falling in love all over again -- the way her breath quickened and how she had to stop her eyes from fluttering closed at the beautiful thing before her -- this one squirmy, wrinkled and pink.  Her wife looked equally as gorgeous, even though she hadn’t slept in nearly 30 hours, 21 of which were spent in labor.  _

_ Despite her exhaustion, Chloe couldn’t decide if she wanted to fall into a deep sleep -- probably the last she would get for the next 18 years -- or continue to gaze at her wife, gently bouncing and swinging a sleeping Henry in her arms.  She smiled to herself. She had every confidence in the world that Beca would be a great mother, even when Beca didn’t, and that together, they’d make wonderful parents to this little bundle.  _

_ “What?” Beca asked when she caught Chloe staring. “Am I not doing it the right way?”  _

_ Chloe smiled a tired but loving smile.  “Is he crying?”  _

_ “No…” said Beca, confused. _

_ “Then you’re doing it perfectly.  You’re a natural.”  _

“Mom!” yelled Henry, turning to bolt for the petite figure that was headed their way.  

Henry’s sudden outburst caused them all to turn to see Beca, stooping to scoop Henry up in her arms.  “Hey, Peanut!” she said, kissing his cheek. “You look so handsome.” 

She held Henry as she walked over to Chloe, confused as to who she was talking to.  It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized. “Mr. Beale. Mrs. Beale. It’s a surprise to see you.” 

Beca quickly avoided saying it was nice or a pleasure to see them because after the anguish they caused Chloe well, she didn’t want to lie.  “Surprise” seemed accurate -- not necessarily that they were in the audience, but that they were standing here, talking to Chloe and Henry like they were old friends. Like nothing happened seven years ago to nearly break them apart for good. 

“Hello, Beca,” said Mr. Beale.

“Oh, Beca,” Mrs. Beale had to resist the urge to hug her.  “What you did...your piece of music was stirring. It was brilliant.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Beale.  That’s kind of you to say,” she said, putting Henry back on his own two feet.  

She couldn’t quite make out whether Chloe was enjoying this moment with her parents or not, so she decided to follow Chloe’s lead. 

“Chloe, dear.  I -- we -- I just want to tell you that we made such a big mistake seven years ago.  We should have never --” Mrs. Beale pauses to wipe her tears. “You were everything to us, Chloe.”  

Chloe sighs.  She doesn’t want to have this conversation here. Now.  But her mother seems to need it. “Apparently I wasn’t, Mother, if you were so willing to put conditions on me and turn me loose when I couldn’t -- wouldn’t -- meet them.” 

“Chloe, we made a mistake.  We’re only human,” pleads Mr. Beale. “Could we please have lunch and perhaps just discuss things?”

“Are you just saying all this because you happened to run into me, us, tonight?” 

“Absolutely not.  We searched for you for a long time, but neither Aubrey nor Stacie, nor any of your other friends would tell us where you were.  If you were still even in the city. I thought Tom’s funeral would have -- “

“Tom died?  I had no idea.  When?” 

Mrs. Beale looks at her husband.  “I’d say about a year ago. He was hit by a taxi late one night on 8th Ave.” 

Chloe brings her hand to her mouth in disbelief, “Oh!  That’s terrible. Poor Tom.” But Beca can’t help but smirk at the fact that he was likely paying for sex up until the very end.  Poor Tom indeed. 

“Will you please reconsider, Chloe?  At least think about it. It’s just lunch and we can go from there.  We want to spend some time with you and Beca and get to know young Henry.”

Chloe looks down and smooths a hand over her stomach, pulling the dress taut to reveal a small bump.  “And Henry’s sibling, too?”

“Oh, my!  Chloe!” 

Chloe smiles sweetly at Beca.

“Yes, yes, of course!”  says Mrs. Beale, overjoyed.  “Does that mean you’ll think about it?” 

“Yes, Mother.  We will, but right now, Beca and Henry and I really need to go.  We’re meeting friends for dinner.”

“Of course, I understand.  Thank you, Chloe. Thank you,” she says, hugging her daughter.  “And thank you, Beca. May I?” She opens her arms for a hug and while Beca generally dislikes physical contact -- especially from her wife’s previously homophobic parents, she doesn’t want to rock the boat for Chloe, so she allows Mrs. Beale to wrap her up. 

“Chloe, we’ll expect to hear from you?” 

“I’ll call in a few days, Mother.  Dad. Good night.” 

Chloe and Beca each take one of Henry’s hands and lead him out onto the street.   When they’re a safe distance away from the theatre, Beca speaks up. “You OK?” 

“I am, yeah,” says Chloe softly.  “It was definitely a surprise running into them there, but I thought it was OK.” 

“Good.  How are you feeling about seeing them again and talking things out?” 

“Well, I didn’t commit to anything, did I? I just said I’d consider it.  It’s going to take a lot more than a fancy lunch to win me back.”

Beca nods. 

“In a strange way, I’m sort of grateful to them for what happened.”

“How’s that?” 

“I think they ultimately brought us together.  Them forcing me to choose really made me realize how much I loved you and how much I wanted to be with you.  I was absolutely determined for us to be together.” 

“Your determination is one of the many, many things I love about you,” Beca says, winking. “But I don’t want to be the thing that stands between you and your parents.  They’re your parents, after all.”

“Beca, the only thing standing between me and my parents is... them.  This is all their doing, so please don’t think for a minute that any of this is your fault.  It’s not.” 

They arrive at the restaurant and before they can continue the conversation, and Beca is swept up into a huge hug with “Congratulations” from Aubrey and Stacie, Henry and Oliver.  

“Beca, you were truly fantastic tonight,” says Henry.

“I’m so glad you invited us to be there for your debut,” says Aubrey. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Stacie chimes in. 

Oliver lifts a glass and the rest follow -- Henry and Ellie with their Shirley Temples --  “Cheers to experiencing something incredible tonight with someone incredible. Congratulations, Beca!” 

They all drink their toast to Beca before Chloe chimes in.  “Speaking of something incredible, wait until I tell you who we ran into tonight while we were waiting for Beca…” 

The group leans in, eager to hear the story.

Beca is the only one who sits back in her chair, her hand on Chloe's thigh, and she takes it all in -- the night she had, her friends, her son, her wife.  When Chloe finishes the story, she sits shoulder to shoulder with Beca and sighs.

“Everything all right?” Beca asks, somewhat concerned given the events earlier that evening. 

Chloe nods.  “Perfect. You OK?”

“I am.” 

“I meant what I said earlier, Beca.  I’m grateful everyday for the way things happened.  It brought me to you and it brought us Henry...and soon-to-be #2,” she says, glancing down at her belly.  “I don’t regret it for a second. I made the choice I wanted to make and they can’t take any of it away from me.”   

Beca surveys the entire table before returning her glance to her wife.  She smiles and tilts her head to subtly kiss Chloe’s cheek. “All I can say is, ‘I love you, Chlo’, and I promise I’ll never stop.”

“That’s all I want. It’s all I’ll ever need,” Chloe says bringing Beca’s palm to her lips to kiss it, before softly kissing her lips. The outward sign of affection earns them a teasing “Ewww,” from little Henry and Ellie, prompting the entire table to join in.  

Chloe can only roll her eyes at all of them, but the smile on her face says she wouldn’t have it any other way.   

END  


End file.
